


you're my land ahoy

by Bouncey



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Crack Treated Seriously, Drabbles, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Ficlets, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Geralt calls Jaskier his wife, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I borrowed Starkey from Peter Pan, Idiots in Love, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Kidnapping, M/M, Matelotage, Mermaid Ciri, Nobleman Jaskier, One Smut but it's labeled, Piracy, Pirate AU, Pirate Captain Geralt, Pirate wedding, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Siren Jaskier | Dandelion, Siren!Jaskier, Sirens, Strangers to Lovers, Swashbuckling AU, baby ciri, just a whole bunch of barely related but adorable pirate oneshots and such, limrx art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 22,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncey/pseuds/Bouncey
Summary: A series of cute oneshots and drabbles detailing the life and times of Captain Geralt de Riv, the White Wolf of the Seven Seas and captain of the Kaer Morhen. Alongside his trusty crew of scalawags and swashbucklers, he's about to set sail on the greatest adventure of all time: falling in love with an idiot.Oh, and that idiot is a half-siren, helping him raise their accidentally acquired mermaid baby.(Yes, the title is from "Gay Pirates" by Cosmo Jarvis)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 66
Kudos: 656
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	1. just kidnap me, please

**Author's Note:**

> it's not another multi-chapter story that I'll be updating regularly. this is just a series of drabbles/oneshots that I'm using as warm-ups and destressers for my other stuff.
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> most of my stuff is inspired by limrx on Tumblr so you should check out her art and give her some serious love.

It was just another merchant vessel; they’d missed the last one through the fault of bad winds and Geralt knew that this catch would keep the men from getting antsy. From making mistakes. Tonight he’d be able to double the rum ration and count out the shares. At least the shares would be larger this time around. He’d lost two of his best men to higher paying ships in Skellige and his crew was beginning to look rather ragged. 

So a ship with an easily frightened Captain and a full hold was Geralt’s personal blessing from the gods.

_Except_ for the passenger aboard. One solitary passenger. A young nobleman who was making his way back to the mainland from some visit to court, no doubt. Having a passenger aboard their conquered prey normally wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that _this_ little noble was grabbing hold of every passing pirate and _begging_ to be kidnapped. Literally begging. He’d actually tried _pouting_ at Lambert. 

Geralt didn’t have _time_ for this kind of nonsense. They were in busy coastal waters and he didn’t want the wrath of Skellige’s Royal Navy bearing down on his rather small schooner. It was only a six-gunner, after all.

When the young man with the bright blue waistcoat and matching silk trousers began approaching Geralt, smiling like he’d never seen a finer sight than a handful of murderous brigands, the pirate Captain grabbed him by the front of his frilly white shirt and backed him against the railing. “What’re you going on about to all of my men, lad?”

“I’d really like to join your crew. Or just _not_ go home quite yet. I’ve been accepting every invitation sent my way and stopping in every town possible in order to avoid some arranged marriage to a rather dreadful young woman named-”

“ _Get on with it,”_ Geralt snarled, lifting the young man clear of the deck and holding him out as if he was going to drop him into the sea. He wasn’t, of course, but intimidation could work wonders on such sheltered people. The boy seemed more nervous about being left behind than frightened of being drowned, however. 

“W-wait! Let’s talk about this! You could ransom me! Just let me stay aboard for two weeks and you can have all the gold you want from my father’s coffers. He’s a Viscount, you see, a tax collector. He has money to spare! I can work!”

“Hmm.” Geralt considered. Lambert approached, raising an eyebrow.

“You thinking about getting a pet, Captain?”

“ _Excuse me_?” the young man asked, scoffing loudly. Geralt was impressed, seeing as the nobleman’s ass was still dangling above the ocean. “I am more than capable of pulling my own weight. I can cook, I can scrub decks, and I can mend rope. I can fight decently well and I’m an excellent climber. Please, good sir pirate, will you take me with you?”

“His father is rich,” Geralt smirked. Lambert shrugged. 

“Cabin boy is useless anyhow. Might as well show this poor fellow what it’s like to earn your living.”

“Alright,” Geralt agreed. He lowered the smaller man to the deck and released his shirt. “But if you try anything funny or disobey a single order then I’m tossing you to the sharks, lad.”

“Jaskier.”

“What?”

“My name is Jaskier. Well _actually_ it’s-”

“Jaskier is fine.” The scowling Captain stalked off towards his crew to make sure that everything was being taken care of and loaded onto the _Kaer Morhen_ properly. “Stow the vittles but take one barrel of molasses to the kitchen. Maybe we can use it with breakfast. See if they have any fruit, we’ll need that if we intend to make the crossing any time soon. Starkey! You get the gold counted, aye? There will be hefty shares for one and all!”

Once everything had been transferred from the merchant ship to the _Kaer Morhen_ and packed away, the boarding ropes were released and their victims were left to float back to land without cargo. Geralt turned to go meet Starkey in his cabin and divide up the shares but Jaskier was standing directly in his path. The young noble’s eyes were bluer than the water they sailed or the cloudless skies above. If the Captain hadn’t learned such excellent self-control as a younger man he would have gasped at the sight of such natural beauty. “I love your hair,” Jaskier beamed. “Is that why they call you the White Wolf? Has it always been like that or did it turn white from stress? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Go talk to Eskel, he’ll assign you a hammock and a job. You’re technically a captive so don’t do anything untoward or I’ll have him tie you to the mast.”

“Very dramatic, I love it,” the noble nodded seriously. It didn't seem like he feared the threat at all. _Perhaps he's more siren than man, after all,_ the Captain though. Jaskier adjusted the angle of the feather on Geralt’s hat so that it wouldn’t fall into his face and practically _skipped_ off to find out where Eskel was. He left a trail of smiling, eye-rolling pirates in his wake.

_Ah fuck,_ Geralt sighed internally. _I actually might enjoy having him around._


	2. an even exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to mention: i got the title of this story from the song "Gay Pirates" by Cosmo Jarvis. great song, kinda graphic tho. i'd check the lyrics before listening to it cause it might trigger some people but it is a GOOD and yearning song. the music video made me cry a lot in high school.

Jaskier was three days into his ‘captivity’ aboard the _Kaer Morhen_ when he decided he’d like to flirt with the Captain. They hadn’t captured another ship since they’d taken everything off the one he was traveling on, even though they’d passed a few bountiful-looking galleons.

It appeared that they were on their way to another country entirely. Probably somewhere they could sell off the stolen cargo. The crew would likely spend a few nights in town wasting their shares on drinks, tattoos, and women before heading back out to sea.

He wondered if they were going to send a ransom note back to Lettenhove Estate and force him to stay ashore until his Father arrived. He shuddered at the thought. “Cold?” that now-familiar gravelly voice questioned. Geralt stood in the doorway to the galley, arms crossed over his chest and cutlass dangling from his hip. Jaskier tried not to tear up at the sight of him looking so cocksure and relaxed. _He’s so fucking gorgeous. Is this a curse or a blessing?_

“Not cold, just had a nasty thought.”

“What could possibly be worrying your pretty little head?”

Pointedly ignoring the fact that Captain Geralt had called him _pretty,_ Jaskier sent the man a wan smile. “Not looking forward to going home.”

“Hmm.”

"Don't really want to get married. I'm not exactly a _lady's man_ if you catch my drift."

The man went tense and terrified under the Captain's scrutinizing gaze. Geralt used his hip to push himself away from the door frame and Jaskier audibly gulped, eyes trained on the shift of his pelvis. "So I gather."

"If you can provide me with some paper I can get to writing my ransom request," Jaskier sighed. He knew it was a futile attempt; there weren't too many people wandering around the world with his same _predilections._

Geralt retired to his chamber and had a long, hard talk to himself about what to do with his prisoner.

* * *

Later that same afternoon, the Captain was tearing up his private cabin from top to bottom. He could not find his dark red kerchief _anywhere._ It had been a favorite accessory of his since he’d picked it off a silk-trading ship last year and it did a damn good job of keeping his long white hair out of his eyes. He had others that he could wear but the red one was _special_ and being a superstitious sailor, he’d prefer to have it back in his possession.

But it was missing! On a ship! It had to be in his cabin _somewhere,_ because where else could it possibly be? After a solid ten minutes of searching, the Captain gave up. He grabbed a strip of purple fabric from the chest at the end of his bed and used that to tie his hair back instead. He stormed out onto the deck, glaring down anyone who dared get in his path. He made his way towards the steering wheel from the forecastle. 

_I hope that damned thing turns up soo-_

Oh, there it was. It was swinging through the rigging on _Jaskier’s_ head. The aggravating young noble had clearly spent time arranging his hair to make it stand out; there was no other way to make the kerchief so painfully obvious. The sun was practically glaring off the shiny material as he moved around the top of the ship’s mainmast like a seasoned professional. 

“Jaskier!”

“Aye, Captain?”

He’d taken to using more nautical language lately and Geralt wasn’t sure if he enjoyed it or if it grated on his nerves. Perhaps a bit of both. _Does the lad think he’s staying forever? “_ Get down here.”

With a short series of death-defying and heart-stopping maneuvers, Jaskier dropped gracefully to the deck in front of his Captain. He hooked his hands together behind his back and smiled sweetly up at Geralt. “Aye, sir?”

“Give it back.”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“Give. It. Back.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but you’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

The twinkling of those siren’s eyes and the quirking of his mouth suggested that Jaskier knew _exactly_ what Geralt was asking for and was still playing the fool. The Captain rolled his eyes and reached out to take the strip of fabric out of the idiot noble’s hair but suddenly Jaskier was gone. He’d scurried back up into the rigging and disappeared against the blue of the sky. “Give my kerchief back, Jaskier!”

“Why? Is your hair so lustrous and thick that you need _two ties_ to hold it back? Perhaps it’s time for a haircut, Captain.”

“I’m coming up there and then you’ll be sorry.”

Geralt had quite forgotten that they had an audience in his crew. Eskel and Lambert were close to tears from holding back their laughter and a few of the others were hiding grins as well. 

The White Wolf reached out to take hold of a rope and found it suddenly loose and useless in his hands. _Jaskier had pulled it straight out of the rigging._ Geralt growled and took hold of the rope ladder that connected the deck to the mizzenmast. His prey still danced and jigged atop the yardarm of the mainmast, the Captain’s red silk tie flickering in the wind as he did. 

At last the pirate reached the top and yanked Jaskier down to meet him. “I’m going to throw you headfirst into the sea.”

“Ah, but Captain,” the young noble smiled, leaning only slightly back into the empty air. Geralt’s arm went around his waist immediately to prevent him from falling to his death on the deck below. Jaskier grinned like the cat that caught the mouse, “I think you’d miss me if you threw me overboard.”

Geralt’s mouth went dry as the blue-eyed sea nymph leaned ever closer. 

“I think you would miss me rather a lot, hmm?”

“I don-”

Jaskier pressed his lips to the Captain’s. Once. Briefly. A touch that began and ceased so quickly that it left Geralt’s head spinning. His arm was still holding the noble close, pressing their chests together against the blue of the sky. His other hand was still holding fast to the rope ladder for support. “You can have your kerchief back, Captain,” Jaskier relented, trading the red cloth in his hair for the purple in Geralt’s. “But not your heart.”


	3. Alert the Twink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Happy birthday! If you're still accepting prompts, could you write something fun and humorous about Geralt being a pining, oblivious idiot. Let's (lovingly) make fun of Geralt. He deserves it.

It’s been two days since Jaskier kissed him in the rigging and Geralt cannot figure out if it was an accident or not. 

Starkey, Lambert, Eskel, and a handful of others have all reassured him that _no, it was definitely intentional_ but he isn’t sure. He can’t be sure. Jaskier is just so…vibrant. Why would a person so bubbly and full of joy ever want to be with someone whose scowl could make a merchant shit their britches?

It didn’t seem likely.

Even as Jaskier bent at the waist far more often than necessary (sometimes even dropping things on purpose as an excuse to do so), scrubbed the deck on hands and knees even though they had a working mop, and kept stealing Geralt’s favorite bandanna…the Captain couldn’t be sure it was flirting.

He’d sit at the wheel and gaze longingly at the young noble, whose flighty nature often led him into the rigging. He sighed and moped and pined, unsure of what to do about his situation.

“He’s just…so fucking stupid,” Eskel asserted, standing in the bunk room with Lambert and Starkey. “Something must be done.”

“We could throw the lad overboard,” Lambert suggested. 

“Absolutely not. We’d be killed for something like that.”

“So what’s your idea then, Starkey?”

“We tell Jaskier about the Captain’s obvious feelings and let him come up with a plan on his own, since he has the highest level of education on this boat?”

“That actually is a pretty good plan.”

“Alert the twink,” Starkey joked. “We’re going ashore in three days and it’s the perfect time for seduction!”


	4. Hands Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: who could pass up on a little bit of Jaskier in danger and Geralt coming to rescue him and being confused at his emotions,,,

Geralt didn’t know what had possessed him back at the tavern, but as he sat alone in his cabin with his head in his hands, he marveled at the force of it. Something ugly and violent and _strong_ had welled up in his chest when the man at the bar slapped Jaskier’s ass. 

When the boy had blushed.

Not his siren’s shy, gentle blush. Not the soft and achingly sweet shade of pink that colored his cheeks when Geralt called him _pretty_ or referred to him as _little nymph._ No, this blush had been hard and red and blotchy. 

He’d been embarrassed. Ashamed. Afraid.

Jaskier didn’t deserve to feel those things at the hands of such a vile, disgusting man. Jaskier didn’t deserve to feel those things _at all._ So Geralt, without thinking twice (or really at all) had knocked the man to the ground with a solid right hook. The brunette lad had stared up at him with those shining, sea-blue eyes and Geralt had _fled._

He’d turned heel and booked it back to the ship like the whole Skelligan Royal Navy was on his tail. Like a coward.

How was he supposed to face his pseudo-captive in the morning and apologize? How was he going to explain himself or his behavior? There was no way! He’d just have to ignore it and pretend it didn’t happen. He’d have to fight that angry, jealous-

Oh fuck. Oh fucking hells. Geralt was _jealous._

 _Shit,_ he thought. He flopped back onto his bed like a much younger man might have done and sighed. _I think I may like him a little bit more than I should._


	5. Take Me, I'm Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazing limrx on Tumblr (sparrowkeating on AO3)
> 
> thank you so much for collaborating with me!! You're amazing and today was super great. Can't wait to write for more of your stuff.

“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though. 

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told _me_ anything about it, then?” 

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, _emotionally incompetant_?” 

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I _really_ want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s _killing_ me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

* * *

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he _deserved_ to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely _die_ when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols _twice_ last week and Geralt was repaying him with _public_ _humiliation_? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is _drama_. This is _entertainment_!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you _will_ be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “ _Why_ _not_ go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the _mouth_ for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that _I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating_.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the _Kaer_ _Morhen_ and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. _This was the part he’d been waiting for!_ Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a _pat_ really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. _Then_ you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. _I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again._ The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”


	6. Not Worth the Ransom

“Galleon to port!” Jaskier swung through the rigging like he’d been born up there. His feet landed solidly on the top level of the mizzenmast as he released the rope he’d been climbing before. He shimmied down the central support beam and dropped to the deck with his usual grace; catlike and carefree. “Are we going to take her, Captain? She looks like a merchant ship and she has no escort.”

“Could be a military ship,” Geralt grunted, handing the younger man his cutlass. “Did you see any other flags?”

“Nope, just the flag of an Aedirn Merchant vessel, first class.”

“Hmm. Sounds fat indeed.”

“Captain?” the first mate asked, approaching the two men with his own sword handy. “The men heard him shouting. They want to know what your plan is.”

“Load the port side canons and run up the Red X, Eskel. If they think we’re in need of assistance then they won’t put up much of a fight when we board. Make sure the men load the canons below decks where they won’t be seen by any curious spyglasses.”

“Aye, Captain,” Eskel nodded. He rushed to call orders to the others. 

“We’ll eat well tonight,” Jaskier beamed. He was practically dancing in place.

“Jask,” the Captain glowered.

“Right, of course. No getting un-captured. Don’t let anyone recognize me.”

“Hmm.” Geralt nodded. Then he turned to face the deck of his ship, which was quickly emptying of pirates. “All hands below decks! Arm the port side canons! Let’s go, lads, we want a fast fight and a long night, aye?”

A cheer went up as the band of men hurried to carry out their Captain’s orders. Jaskier sighed dreamily and gazed with adoring eyes at the white-haired pirate he’d so quickly fallen in love with. “Anything you say, Captain.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I keep you around,” the older man smirked. He wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s waist and pecked him quickly on the forehead. “Not worth the trouble of holding you for ransom.”

“If this was still about the ransom,” the nobleman-turned-pirate smirked back, equally confident now that he’d been aboard for nearly three months, “I wouldn’t be holding a sword and I wouldn’t be wearing your personal colors.”

“Shut up and get below before I lock you in my cabin for being so impertinent.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

Geralt watched his little sea nymph disappear into the hold with the other members of his crew, hands already reaching to take a canonball from Lambert. He’d been so excited to escape his dreary life as a noble. Even though piracy was dangerous and could lead to many a painful death, Jaskier chose him and his crew over comfort. Every single day. At every port they stopped at for supplies, Geralt asked if the young man wanted to stay aboard or send his ransom letter home to Lettenhove Estate.

He always chose to sign back onto the crew. 

_Davy Jones take me now,_ the pirate Captain smiled. _This blue eyed siren of a lad may yet prove to be the death of me._

__

_Art by the lovely[limrx](https://limrx.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr_


	7. under pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mild blood tw  
> peril tw  
> Jaskier is threatened with a knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun!
> 
> Protective!Captain Geralt is a fav

_ Why?  _ Jaskier wondered. His back was pressed tightly against the rough brick of an unfamiliar alley wall and the man who had demanded his nonexistent coin-purse was pressing the tip of a  _ very  _ sharp dagger just below his navel.  _ Why am I always the one getting into these kinds of situations?  _

“I told you, good sir, that I have no money on my person.”

“Everyone around here keeps gold ‘im. What kind of idiot goes around a port town full of pirates without some kind of insurance against coming to harm?”

“Are you saying that because I have no money you are going to do me harm?”

“Somethin’ like that,” the man leered. The dagger pushed in again and Jaskier knew that it had ripped through the fabric of his shirt when the tip suddenly bumped against the skin of his stomach. “Since you don’t have any money you’ll just have to come back and explain this misunderstanding to my captain yourself.”

“Excuse m-”

The man yanked Geralt’s lucky red bandanna down and tugged it backwards, sliding it between his teeth and effectively gagging the ex-nobleman. He spun Jaskier around and shoved his chest up tightly to the brick. The brigand roughly yanked his hands behind his back and tied them with a length of rope that appeared from seemingly nowhere. The newly minted pirate struggled violently, kicking out his legs and wiggling his torso in an effort to dislodge or disrupt his attacker. Maybe his struggling would get someone’s attention (although it was highly unlikely in a town such as this). Unfortunately the mugger was practiced and nothing Jaskier tried seemed to bother or slow him down at all. 

Starkey and Lambert were only a few feet away! He could hear the rise and fall of their voices as they bartered for supplies with the hardtack merchant around the corner. The anxious brunette whined, trying to make the sound high enough to reach his friends and crewmates. If only he could get the kerchief out of his mouth for a split second, then he could whistle or shout…

He felt the surface of the wall scratching his skin through the hole in his shirt and he frowned. That would leave an unpleasant mark for the next few days and make wearing his sword-belt an absolute nightmare. If he was still part of the  _ Kaer Morhen _ ’s crew by nightfall, that was. If this man didn’t succeed in his current mission of pressing Jaskier into service aboard some other pirate vessel. Jaskier’s blue eyes widened even further as a real sense of panic set in.  _ They might not be able to find me in time. We might head out to sea before Geralt even knows I’m missing if they don’t turn around and noti- _

“Hey, where’s Jaskier?” he heard Starkey ask.  _ Oh, thank gods.  _

“Shit.”

“We’d better find him quickly because I can see Geralt from here,” Starkey added. “I don’t want to be the one to tell him that we lost his precious little siren while we were busy bickering with a shopkeeper.”

“Fucking hells,” Lambert groaned.  _ C’mon,  _ Jaskier pleaded silently.  _ Just around the corner, lads. Please, Starkey. You guys know I’m too annoying to stay quiet for this long.  _

The man with the dagger had already started yanking him backwards down the alley towards a questionable-looking wagon. Jaskier’s attacker kept one hand fisted into the back of the kerchief and used it to maneuver his head around, much like one would control the reins of a horse. The ex-noble made a loud, wordless noise from behind the cloth. Muffled as he was, he was praying that any one of his crewmates heard it and felt the need to investigate. 

Another stranger in dark clothing appeared around the corner and helped the first man lift Jaskier onto the back of the wagon. The newcomer reached for Jaskier’s wildly flailing legs and pulled them together. He tied the brunette’s ankles with another piece of strong hemp rope and tested the knots with his fingers for any slack or give. There was none. The young man screamed and grunted, trying with every ounce of strength he possessed to free himself from their twin grips. It was a fruitless endeavor; they were strong and clearly practiced in the art of stealing other people’s crewmembers.

“Jaskier! Oh, fuck! Hey you there, let go of him!” Lambert was running down the alley towards them, hand on the hilt of his cutlass. The man keeping the gag cinched tight pulled his dagger out again, holding it up against the column of Jaskier’s throat. The second kidnapper released Jaskier’s tied ankles and made his way towards the front of the wagon. Lambert slid to a stop, eyes narrowed threateningly. “Captain! Starkey! I found ‘im. He’s in  _ danger _ !”

Had Jaskier not been scared witless by the threat of having his life ended rather abruptly via blood-loss, he probably would have smirked. These men, regardless of who their scurvy-ridden captain was, were about to get their asses handed to them by one of the most wanted pirates to ever sail the seven seas. Certainly one of the most renowned and fearsome.

The blade of the knife pressed even more tightly against the skin of his Adam's apple and Jaskier flinched.  _ Maybe,  _ if _ I even live long enough to see Geralt kick their asses. At least my death will be avenged quickly, otherwise.  _

As if summoned by his lover’s thoughts the handsome, white-haired Captain appeared at the opposite end of the alley. Jaskier thought he might cry from the mere sight of him. He definitely wanted to let out a relieved sob when Geralt growled out, “It’ll go easier for both of you if you just put the dagger down and release the boy now.”

The ex-noble felt his captor’s muscles twitching nervously as he released a humorless chuckle.  _ Don’t slip up now,  _ Jaskier prayed.  _ Not while you’ve got a knife against my neck. _

__ “Why should we do that?” his captor questioned. The man tugged at the already taut bandanna and Jaskier whined in pain when the damp material bit into the skin of his cheeks. The fury written across Geralt’s features was absolutely terrifying; he looked like an avenging angel, stature defined by the light of the square and silvery hair wild around his face. Jaskier didn’t want to die, not in the slightest, but this wouldn’t be the worst last sight to see, all things considered. The man tugged the material again and Jaskier’s eyes widened when his neck scraped against the edge of the dagger’s sharp blade. “He’d fetch a fair price from our captain. He’d probably fetch a  _ very  _ hefty bit of gold if we took him down the coast a-ways, actually. Your little threats aren’t going to lose me a nice bag of coin.”

Geralt took one slow, measured step forward and drew his cutlass with an effortless extension of his arm. “I’ll give you one last chance to let him go peacefully before I start slitting throats,” he snarled. The scowl on his face would make any ordinary person soil their knickers on sight, but the man holding Jaskier had probably seen something like this before. He was experienced. He teasingly nicked the young man’s tanned skin with the dagger and Jaskier hissed. The sound had Geralt’s eyes going wide with rage. His nostrils flared and his hand twitched. The kidnapper smirked confidently as a thin line of blood beaded on the brunette's skin, “Oops.”

There was a blur of movement from Geralt’s end of the alley, a  _ whooshing  _ sound, and then a wet  _ thud.  _ The man keeping Jaskier captive fell back, dropping his dagger to the ground below as he did. Jaskier wriggled forward in an attempt to reach Geralt and ended up toppling heavily off the back of the wagon and onto the cobblestone street. Lambert dashed to his side and pulled the kerchief out from between his teeth. The younger man was panting, blue eyes wild and confused. “Did Geralt just hit that guy with a knife!?”

“Yeah.”

The ex-noble gave a short, hysterical laugh. His eyes took on a glazed, unfocused quality and Lambert looked to Geralt for help. “Neat,” he muttered.

Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was the shock of having his life legitimately threatened, the smell of his own blood invading his nose, or the impact from hitting the stone walkway, but just as Geralt knelt down at his side, he passed out.

* * *

When his eyelids finally fluttered open again, Jaskier had to squint. The late-afternoon sun slanted in through the porthole of Geralt’s cabin, surrounding the grim-faced Captain with a halo of golden light. “My hero,” Jaskier sighed. He was a lucky man to have a lover so attentive, protective, and also  _ incredibly sexy.  _

“Jaskier!” the pirate pulled him into a sitting position and wrapped him in a hug, crushing the slightly smaller man against his broad chest. “I was so worried that he’d gotten your vein or hurt you some other way that we couldn’t see. Are you alright, little nymph?”

“I’m alright,” he blushed. Geralt’s nose was buried stubbornly in his hair, breathing in repeatedly as if he’d been afraid he’d never see Jaskier again. “Really, darling, I’m just a little shaken. That’s all. I thought we were running errands today. I wasn’t expecting to be taken captive and threatened with a life of piracy.”

“You’re - Jask, you’re  _ living  _ a life of piracy.”

“It was a joke,” the ex-noble teased. Geralt relaxed his grip slightly and leaned back. His amber eyes searched Jaskier’s blue ones for any sign of dishonesty or hidden pain and found none. His siren was telling the truth. He took a seat on the edge of his small bed and dragged his lover onto his lap. Jaskier noticed with a sly smile that he was draped in one of the captain’s overly-large burgundy shirts. One he didn’t wear very often but that Jaskier found him endlessly attractive in. “Geralt, did you change my shirt for me?”

“Your other one was ripped. It had blood on it. We also had to bandage your wounds.”

“Oh. Thank you for letting me borrow it,” Jaskier flapped his arms a little, letting the sleeves roll down over his hands. “I love roomy shirts to sleep in.”

“You can just ask to borrow them,” the Captain relented. “You don’t always need a scheme to get what you want, little nymph.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sighed, cuddling close again. “Thank you for rescuing me.

“I am not an easy man to scare,” the pirate intoned seriously. His grip on Jaskier’ tightened and his voice grew slightly scratchy with emotion as he continued. “But seeing you like that today had me more frightened than I’ve ever been before in my life. I’ve faced down bigger ships with better guns and more men than mine. I was briefly incarcerated by the mayor of Novigrad and sentenced to hang. I’ve seen my fair share of scary things, my sweet siren, but I would never be able to live with myself if you came to harm. That’s the most terrifying thought of all.”

“Geralt,” the young man gasped. He wrapped his arms around his Captain’s shoulders and moved to straddle the larger man’s wide lap. He pressed a brief but bracing kiss to the other man’s lips. “The thought of never seeing you again is the worst thought in the world. Let us never be parted.”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s left hand moved to grip Jaskier’s corresponding hip while his right arm went around the back of his nymph’s slender shoulders. He gently pulled their chests together and nibbled his way up the uninjured side of his little nymph’s neck, reveling in every little noise the brunette made. He pressed a rough, wet kiss behind Jaskier’s ear and whispered roughly, “Never.”


	8. Bonnie Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jaskier singing for the crew, on deck after the capture of a merchant ship or narrow escape. Everyone is more than a little tipsy, and the way the Jaskier's hair shines in the moonlight, and his eyes reflect the candlelight is the inly thing the captain can focus on. Hes just, so in love.

Tonight was a good night to be aboard the _Kaer Morhen._ They’d taken a rum runner, an _illegal_ rum runner masquerading as a generic merchant vessel. Not only was their hold full of liquor, cloth, and some costume jewelry they could pawn off as legitimate, but they’d had _instruments._

Normally that wouldn’t matter to the pirate crew at all, but now they had Jaskier aboard, and Jaskier had a degree in the bardic arts from a rather prestigious university. 

So, naturally, he was showing off. 

They’d all had a bit to drink from the rum runner’s supply, Geralt included, and they were sitting in scattered groups across the deck to watch him perform. His eyes, so blue in the light of the sun, were a stormy grey in the darkness. Geralt couldn’t help but stare. 

He was dancing a little as he sang a rather inappropriate shanty, really playing up his role as _troubadour_ for the crew: 

_“I used to be a rovin’ lad._

_A rovin’ and wanderin’ life I had._

_On any lass I’d frown, who would try to tie me down._

_“But then one day I saw a maid,_

_Who held out her hand, and I stayed and stayed._

_And now across the green, I’ll go home with Bonnie Jean!”_

The men picked up the chorus with him, filling the open air with raucous song:

_“Go home, go home, go home with Bonnie Jean!_

_Go home, go home, I’ll go home with Bonnie Jean!”_

He stopped paying attention to the words after that. He only had eyes for the bard/pirate/noble who was casting his spell over the crew. 

The way his soft, rosy cheeks looked under the light of the full moon was ethereal. His hair had grown since he’d come aboard and now it curled ever so teasingly at the nape of his neck, begging to be pulled and petted. It bounced as he danced and Geralt was stupefied by the movement. The White Wolf remained paralyzed in place even as the urge to _touch, claim, protect_ echoed in his very soul. 

He couldn’t wait to take the man to bed after his performance. He couldn’t wait to bury his nose in the crook of Jaskier’s neck and breath in the sweat and seawater and sunshine that gathered there. Piracy wasn’t the cleanest job but somehow his little nymph never smelled too bad. 

One of those blue-grey eyes winked in his direction and Geralt’s heart sped up again. It was a promise. A gift. A private moment for just the two of them. _Fuck it,_ the pirate Captain thought, grinning widely. _I’m in love._


	9. Sirens!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier discovers something interesting about his parentage...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops there's a plot now kinda

Jaskier didn’t notice anything strange when the _Kaer Morhen_ started to round the corner of some tiny island while making her way out to sea. He didn’t know why the other men kept turning their heads towards the land mass and pausing their work to stare off at some distant piece of sky. He didn’t realize anything was wrong until Billy Jukes nearly threw himself overboard. By then, everyone could hear the singing.

Everyone except Jaskier. 

“Sirens!” Geralt shouted, grimacing with the effort it was taking him to continue steering the ship. Every muscle in his body was tense. “Cover your ears and get the wax from belowdecks! Run!”

Jaskier wasn’t hearing _shit._

Still, he raced to the hold and grabbed two pinches of wax from a half-melted tallow candle, carrying them back to the quarterdeck and thrusting them at Geralt. “Quickly, Captain, put this in your ears.”

“What about you?”

“I can’t hear them!”

“What?!” Geralt was shocked. His amber eyes flashed with concern and mild fright but he took the wax from Jaskier and stuffed it into his ears nonetheless. “Why can’t you hear anything?”

Jaskier shrugged. He could have answered aloud but Geralt wouldn’t have been able to hear him anyway. He tied the emergency rope around Geralt’s waist, which was usually only used during torrential storms, and secured the Captain against the wheel. He wandered closer to the railing and peered towards shore. He could barely see them, laying half-in and half-out of the water, their shark-like tails stirring little waves against the surface.

Sirens. 

Their mouths were moving but the ex-noble remained unbothered.

He stayed against the railing and watched until the strange half-women were well out of range. When he figured it was safe, Jaskier returned to Geralt’s side and released the Captain from the ties securing him to the helm. Geralt stayed calm as he asked the nobleman: “Why couldn't you hear them?”

“I don’t know,” Jaskier murmured. The Captain could see how frightened his little nymph really was. The brunette’s hands fisted into the black cloth of Geralt’s shirt and tears suddenly crowded into his blue eyes. They shone desperately up at Geralt as he cried, “Please don’t throw me overboard, sir, please!”

“My sweet siren,” Geralt began. “And I can call you that whenever I want since we know for sure now that you have _some_ measure of mer-blood in you; I will never throw you overboard. Your sisters would surely eat you because you were probably the runt of the litter.“

"Hey!”

“I jest, Jask.”

“My Estate…”

“Landlocked, you told us many times.”

“How?” the noble whispered. 

“Magic is chaotic,” Geralt shrugged. “How you were born with a measure of siren's blood is no concern of mine. All that matters now is that we have a creature of the sea on our side for once.”

“Thinking about that escape in Novigrad…it makes sense,” Eskel added, wandering past. Starkey was close behind and nodding sagely. 

“No wonder you have the Captain so bewitched.”

“Oh no!” Jaskier wrenched himself from the pirate’s comforting arms and backed away, horrified. If he'd been accidentally manipulating the Captain into treating him so kindly and lovingly this whole time then he really _was_ a monster. His mouth opened and shut uselessly as he tried to stutter an apology worth hearing; “Geralt, I didn’t mean to - _oh gods what have I -”_

 _“_ My siren,” the Captain hushed him, stepping forward and reaching out for Jaskier’s hand. Eskel and Starkey moved away again, granting the two men some much-needed privacy in the wake of their comments. “My darling little nymph. My heart and soul would belong to you regardless of your parentage. I think there’s more human in you than siren, anyway. You've sung for us many times and you have yet to hypnotize anyone with your voice or show them their wildest dreams.”

“What did you see when my _sisters_ sang to you?” Jaskier asked, voice almost too quiet to hear. The bitterness tainting the word 'sisters' was obvious. Geralt knew the ex-noble needed caring reassurance more than anything else right now.

“I saw _you_.”

“What?” Jaskier's gaze snapped to meet his Captain's.

“When she was putting her spell on me and trying to get me to leap into the waves,” Geralt said. He trailed his fingertips down the brunette's gently curving spine and lit up every one of the younger man’s nerves as he went. He cupped the lad's jaw with his other hand and leaned close, keeping their lips a hair's breadth apart as he spoke, “She sang about you. How lovely she could make you look for me. How pliant she could make you be for me.”

“Oh.” Jaskier blushed scarlet. “But you managed to hold back until I brought you the wax.”

“No petty words of song can beat the real thing," Geralt asserted, flexing the hand that was spread across Jaskier's lower back. The bard's chest flooded with warmth,   
"Anyway, my little nymph, I’d never want you any other way than how you are.”


	10. Lord Pankratz Intervenes (Almost)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's Father arrives and tries to claim his son...not a great idea.

The mayor of Novigrad had sent Lord Pankratz a strongly worded letter when Jaskier used his impending wedding as an excuse to flee with the White Wolf's pirate crew, alerting the Lord of his son’s appearance in (and disappearance from) town. 

The Lord had, in turn, followed a trail of wanted posters until finally finding and tracking down the boy.

Lord Pankratz was, in fact, currently staring on in horror as his son plopped down into the lap of the White Wolf, one of the most feared pirates on the Seven Seas. 

“Is that…is that _Julian_?” the Countess DeStael asked from her place in the carriage beside him, pointing through the glass of the tavern window. “Who is he with? What is he doing? I thought we were getting _married_!”

“You _are_ getting married,” Lord Pankratz asserted. He waved a handful of soldiers from his retinue to his window. “Go in there and bring out my son.”

“Yes, Milord,” they nodded. Three of his strongest guards entered the tavern and made their way to the White Wolf’s table.

The angry noble watched with bated breath as one of his men reached out to grab Julian’s arm. He was surprised when the heavyset man in noble livery was tossed aside by a tall pirate with a heavily scarred face before his hand could ever make contact. The Lord noticed, with no small amount of disgust, the way the White Wolf cradled Julian to his chest and kept him from coming to harm.

The noble's three hired men didn’t stand a chance. Their unconscious bodies were tossed out the door, one after the other, without a word. The pirates who disposed of them shot his carriage a dirty glare before turning back to rejoin the singing and drinking at their table.

The Lord was furious. _How dare they defy me? How dare they keep my son from me?_

He stormed through the door and over to his wayward child, whose cheeks were flushed with drink and laughter. The boy was wearing a loose, ripped burgundy shirt that was clearly too large and a pair of unfamiliar knee-length trousers. Peasant's clothes. A red silk bandanna held his nearly shoulder length and softly curling brown hair out of his eyes. Eyes that slowly filled with fear as they met his Father's. “Milord!?”

“Julian,” the Lord snarled, reaching for his son. The boy leaned back into the White Wolf’s embrace, which tightened around him protectively. Lord Pankratz glared at the insolent young man, trying to stay in control of his fear as well as his child, “Come with me, Julian. The Countess DeStael is sitting in the carriage outside and she’s _missed_ you these last few months. You were supposed to be married by now and on your honeymoon to Oxenfurt.”

“Do you want to leave?” the pirate Captain asked. Julian shook his head emphatically and burrowed even closer into the man’s broad chest. 

“Absolutely not, my love.”

“ _My love_?” the Lord practically choked. “You can’t be serious, Julian.”

“Completely,” the boy glared. “I’d rather live the life of a wanted pirate than marry the stupid, selfish Countess. Anyway, I’ve already promised myself to Geralt for all eternity.”

“You - I - Julian!”

“Go away, Father. You can’t win this battle. They’re my family now, you see. Families take care of each other and _protect_ each other.”

“You’ll be sorry when they hang you, boy.”

“They’ll have to catch me first,” Julian smirked. One of his fingers traced lightly down the White Wolf’s jaw and Lord Pankratz blanched when the large pirate leaned into the touch. “Might I remind you that wolves are not prey animals? They don’t _get_ caught.”

There was nothing the Lord could do but storm from the tavern and leave his son behind.

* * *

When he was gone, Geralt pulled Jaskier’s head under his chin and pressed his lips to the younger man’s hair. “That was awfully brave of you, little nymph. I know how much he frightens you.”

“He’s a bully and a bastard,” Jaskier shrugged. “I love you and he’ll never drag me from your side, alive or dead.”

“Hmm. I’m going to keep you alive, my darling. For a long, long time.”


	11. By Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: So, I've personally always been a fan of sick fic type things. What would the crew do if/when Jaskier gets sick while they're at sea? I'm not sure if all the crew are Witchers but that would make for funny shenanigans because being Witchers they probably don't get silly human sicknesses. I imagine at least some of them panic. (I'm no good at prompts but I hope this counts?

Jaskier never got _seasick._ He’d taken to the rolling decks like a newborn horse takes to walking. Unsteady at first but quick to learn. Whatever was battering his body now was _not_ simple seasickness.

This was different. This was a fever that didn’t seem to break. This was several long nights at his side while his body cramped and convulsed, his eyes rolled so far back into his head that only the whites still showed. He couldn’t eat. He barely slept. They couldn’t even get a spoonful of water to stay in his stomach for more than a few minutes. 

Geralt didn’t know what to do. 

He was afraid to go to sleep, worried that if he let himself nod off Jaskier might die in his absence. He couldn’t bear the thought of his little nymph disappearing from his life forever. He stayed awake, a vigilant guard against Death itself. He’d only just met the man, after all. They’d only had a few joy-filled months together. It wasn’t _fair._

On the fourth night of his illness, Jaskier’s fever finally broke. He fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, his sweat-damp hair clinging messily to his forehead and cheeks. Geralt wiped his siren’s skin clean with a damp cloth and changed him into clean, dry clothes. He held the younger man in his arms while Starkey and Lambert changed the sheets and stuffed the mattress pad with fresh hay. They brought a small tin of rum and a tin mug of water

As he slipped into his own little patch of darkness, Geralt wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s slim waist and hauled his body close. Death could not steal his siren away in wakefulness; he wouldn’t even give Death a chance to get close in sleep. 

“Sleep well, little nymph,” the pirate Captain whispered into his darling’s matted hair. “And when you wake I will be here with you. Every morning until you’ll have me no more.”


	12. Don't Touch the Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe don't flirt with Jaskier's boyfriend.

A busty brunette woman had been eyeing Geralt from across the tavern for ten whole minutes. Starkey noticed first and pointed her out to Lambert and Eskel, who were seated next to him at the bar. When she started smoothing her skirts and looking more determined the pirates smiled to each other. 

“Well this will be fun to watch,” Starkey said.

“Aye, what a lovely night we’ll have,” Lambert agreed. 

“Drink fast, lads, because I’m sure we won’t be sticking around for long,” Eskel suggested, gulping down the ale he’d ordered only minutes before. “I’m sure that little firecracker is going to start a fight.”

“He can handle himself,” Starkey snorted.

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t want to see what happens after he wins.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

The three pirates finished their drinks and leaned back in their seats, ready for the show to begin.

* * *

Geralt and Jaskier were sitting across the room at their own private table, deep in conversation about some poem or novel, no doubt. They each had their own mug planted in front of them. Whiskey for Geralt and light ale for Jaskier, who couldn’t tolerate much alcohol at all. 

The woman started to make her way in their direction, her eyes locked hungrily on the White Wolf. The three bemused crewmates watched from a safe distance as she leaned in towards the Captain, giving him a clear view of her _attributes._ She giggled and muttered something cheeky. Geralt blushed scarlet and Jaskier…well…

Jaskier had turned on her with cat-like rage. His hands formed white-knuckled fists at his sides and his blue eyes narrowed dangerously. Starkey winced. He’d been on the receiving end of that glare before; despite Jaskier’s slim stature and natural grace he was _terrifying_ when he was angry. 

And he was _very_ angry at the moment _._

 _“_ Excuse me, My Lady, but we were in the middle of a wonderful literary discussion!” Jaskier’s voice rose, carrying over the din of the port tavern to reach his friends’ listening ears. “Would you _mind_?”

Her reply had Geralt flushing even darker shades of puce and they all knew the exact moment when Jaskier’s willpower snapped. He rose from the table, walked around it, and settled himself rather possessively onto Geralt’s lap. His hand curled menacingly into the pirate’s white hair and his hips started doing _unholy_ things as he let loose a stream of very personal and disgusting information about his and the Captain’s sex life (Eskel even had to look away for a moment). The woman, whoever she was, definitely got the message.

She turned and high-tailed it away from the two men as if her skirt was aflame. Jaskier looked incredibly satisfied, still perched on the Captain’s knee. His hand remained tangled in those long white curls but his hips stilled against the larger man’s. Geralt’s eyes were glazed as the little siren sucked dark purple marks all over his neck and exposed shoulder, glaring down anyone who came too close for his liking.

“Maybe it’s a siren thing,” Starkey suggested. “But that may just be Jaskier’s natural jealousy coming out full bore.”

“Whatever it is, it’s gross.” Lambert decided. Starkey nodded.

Eskel ordered another, stronger drink. 


	13. A Little Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Soft suggestion for the pirate AU: Geralt giving Jask jewelry or a new instrument or something from a boat they take bc he’s bad with words but wants to be a good boyfriend and finds something he think Jaskier would like?

Geralt found the necklace at the bottom of a rich woman’s trunk and knows exactly what he wants to do with it. 

They’d just taken a passenger vessel traveling from lower Skellige to Nilfgaard and the crew had happily unloaded it of all its cargo and finery. Geralt was taking inventory of one half while Starkey did the other, but this particular necklace never made it to the list. Instead, it slipped rather cooperatively into the Captain’s trouser pocket and did not show up again for several days.

—

Jaskier was dozing when Geralt finally came to bed. He’d stayed up past his watch to have a drink with Eskel and discuss their plans for the rainy season; the ex-noble couldn’t fault him for that. Rather than speak, he made grabby-hands in the vague direction of his Captain. Instead of warm skin, however, a cool metal something was slipped into his grasp.

“Huh?”

“It’s for you.”

Jaskier sat up and blinked his vision clear. Resting against the palm of his hand was a small silver flower hanging from an equally delicate chain. The petals branched out from the center, where there rested a soft pink pearl. The young man’s eyes lit up and filled with tears simultaneously. 

Geralt panicked.

“Don’t you like it? You don’t have to wear it i-”

“It’s beautiful, my love.”

The pirate nervously situated himself behind his lover on the mattress. “May I put it on for you?”

Jaskier nodded, beaming. He shivered when those warm, strong hands slid against the back of his neck and fastened the necklace there. When the beautiful trinket was settled against his breastbone, he turned to face Geralt. “Thank you so much.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt smiled into the soft kiss that Jaskier granted him. He smiled even wider when the young man pulled him into his arms and settled them back against the mattress.


	14. Happy Birthday(ish), Geralt!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can we get a birthday scene from your wonderful pirate au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: this chapter is kinda horny

“What do you _mean_ nobody knows when Geralt’s birthday is!?”

“We just don’t know. He’s never told us and he never brings it up.”

“Well that just won’t do.”

“Oh no, no, no,” Lambert says, holding his hands up as if he’s going to push Jaskier away. “Whatever little scheme you’re already cooking up in that stupid, pretty head of yours… _leave me out of it.”_

 _“_ But Lambert,” Jaskier pouts, wheedling just a smidgen of his melodic siren’s Voice into the words, “I just need one teensy weensy bit of hel, that’s all.”

The second mate, for all his willpower and physical strength, is helpless to disobey the Voice that Jaskier has been working to develop ever since his pseud-wedding with Geralt. He nods forlornly. “Fine, but that’s cheating.”

“I know.” Jaskier smiles brightly, like he hasn’t done anything wrong in his life. “But you love me.”

“Whatever.”

—

Lambert is tying Jaskier to the headboard of the Captain’s tiny bed. Why? He can’t be sure. He spent the entire afternoon questioning his life’s choices up to this point. Wondering why in the ever loving fuck he followed his best friend into piracy all those years ago. There’s still no good answer.

“Thank you!”

“Fuck off.”

“You wi-”

Lambert shoves the Captain’s kerchief into Jaskier’s mouth to silence him and finally leaves the room, happy to have done his part. 

He’s going to go have a drink with Eskel to clear his mind. He deserves it. 

—

“Jaskier wh-”

Jaskier isn’t sitting in his usual spot when Geralt enters his cabin. No, instead the man is tied _spread-eagle_ to his _godsdamned mattress_ looking smug as hell. He nervously removes the gag from Jaskier’s mouth. “Happy birthday, love!”

“It’s not my birthday.”

“I didn’t think so. The odds of me correctly guessing your birthday were low to begin with,” the man replied cheekily. “But I got you a present nonetheless. Be it early or belated, _happy birthday._ Now open it up.”

“It’s early,” Geralt smirks. “It’s not for another two months.”

“I’ll just have to get you another present, then,” Jaskier shrugs. Well, as much as he can in his current predicament. 

“And this one? Do you want to return it?”

“Not worth the trouble, now,” the younger man sighs. He wriggles and tugs at the ropes, which does something rude in the confines of Geralt’s trousers. He stalks forward and straddles Jaskier’s hips rather suddenly, running his hands down the man’s clothed sides. 

“Ah well,” Geralt says. He nibbles his way up the siren’s neck to his earlobe, which he bites once before pulling back. “Guess I’d better put it to good use.”


	15. Take That, Valdo Marx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I just read the one where Geralt and Jaskier where dancing. How does Jaskier's friends from Oxenfurt react to seeing pirate Jaskier. Like what if one of his friends... or better yet his rival Valdo Marx, was on a ship that the Wolves were looting and Jaskier went full pirate on his ass???

“Geralt, my darling, we _have_ to take this ship. Please, I’m begging you.”

“It’s an eight gunner, Jask. I’m not risking it.”

“First of all, that is a Redanian merchant ship so I know for a fact that only two of those canons actually work. Second, I can see my rival from university strolling the deck with his lute and I want to hit him over the head with it.”

“Jaskier has enemies aboard that thing?” Eskel asked. “Why not just take it?”

“Men,” Geralt called from the helm. His crew turned to him expectantly. “Vote’s up. Do we take the Redanian Galleon or not?”

“Did I hear that Jaskier has enemies aboard?” someone asked. 

“Aye. A rival from school.”

“Let’s kick their asses!”

Jaskier, the little minx, let out a giddy whoop and kissed Geralt full on the mouth. The crew jeered and teased as they made their way belowdecks to arm the canons. This would be a short fight, Geralt knew, but it would certainly be one to remember.

—

Jaskier would forever covet the memory of Valdo Marx’s face when he swung across the short distance between their ships and landed on the deck with a graceful _thud._

 _“_ Hand over your finery and cargo and we’ll happily be on our way, good sirs.”

“J-Julian?” the other, lesser poet gasped. “You can’t be serious! I thought I’d heard a rumor that you’d run off to join the circus but _piracy?_ Oh, dearest Julian, this is just too good.”

“Did you read the name of my ship, good sir?” Jaskier asked, drawing his cutlass rather casually. “I’m not just _any_ pirate.”

Geralt crossed the boarding planks behind him, then. He felt the weight of those strong hands on his hips and he smirked. Valdo’s face went pale and rigid with anger, shock, hatred, humiliation, and was that _jealousy?_ Jaskier loved each and every one of the other man’s disbelieving expressions.

Well, he _had_ dressed Geralt up a little bit this time. He was wearing the black velvet coat, the _tight_ trousers, the shiny black boots and his most impressive hat. Standing next to Jaskier, who’d stuck with a plain white shirt and breeches (while barefoot of course, he hated shoes) he made a rather stunning picture. 

_They_ made a rather stunning picture.

Jaskier personally held Valdo at sword-point while Geralt and the others unloaded the ship of its valuables. They were carrying cloth, honey, gold, and even some more exotic wines and liquors from Redania. Things Jaskier was familiar with. He nonchalantly quoted price estimates to the crew as they passed with certain items, only serving to make Valdo angrier and Geralt more impressed. 

The risk of danger had been well worth their reward. 

Once the ship was empty and the boarding planks were nearly all pulled back to the deck of the _Kaer Morhen,_ Jaskier lowered his sword and slid it back into his belt. “Lovely seeing you again, Valdo. Do send your wonderful Mother my warmest regards.”

“Time to go, little nymph,” the Captain announced, appearing at his side once again. 

“So soon?”

“What are you waiting for, a kiss goodbye?” Valdo snarled. 

“That would be lovely, actually,” Jaskier smirked. Geralt took the hint and grabbed him by the waist for a passionate kiss. It only served to anger the little siren’s rival even more, which is exactly what he’d hoped for. 

“You’re welcome,” Geralt teased when he finally pulled away.

“One more,” Jaskier pouted. “For good measure.”

Geralt wasn’t going to argue with that. Arguing against Jaskier when he wanted something, it turned out, was rather counterproductive.


	16. What do you do with a drunken sailor (or three)?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert get drunk like in TW3 and Jaskier is just going "my boys....... no.........." That is, if it's possible for the three highest ranking members of the crew to get drunk at once?

When Jaskier finally lowered himself from his nest in the rigging and joined his crew-mates in the galley, he realized that in his absence they’d already drank an entire bottle of rum. Oh no, _two_ bottles of rum.

“Jaskier!” Lambert cheered, waving him over. Not everyone was drunk, the ex-noble realized. A handful of the pirates were still sober, playing Gwent and swapping stories as the others swigged their stolen rum and laughed raucously. He settled himself at Geralt’s side and felt the older man’s arm warp around his waist and those seawater chapped lips move towards his neck immediately. Lambert and Jaskier both ignored the Captain’s heavy petting as the second mate continued, “Did you know that octopuses can unscrew the lids of jars from inside?”

“How do you know that?” Eskel asked, whipping his head around. “What have you been doing with the sea life?”

“I just _know things_ ,” Lambert replied. His eyes squinted comically and Jaskier had to keep himself from giggling. “I’m not a complete fool, you know.”

“Hmm,” Geralt added helpfully. He nuzzled into his little nymph’s shoulder, inhaling deeply and sighing. “Let’s go to bed, my sweet siren.”

“What about your friends?”

“They’re fine.”

Eskel was slumped forward with his head resting on the table. Lambert was deep in conversation with Starkey, slurring every third or fourth word as he went along. Starkey was asleep with his hat pulled low over his face. 

He knew that it would be hell in the morning when all three of the men had hangovers and he knew that he’d likely end up holding Geralt’s hair back for a good potion of the wee hours as well, but it was nice to see them all so relaxed.

They’d found a place to lay anchor and relax for a day or two, near the shore of some uninhabited island off the coast of Cintra. Jaskier intended to row ashore and look for fruit while the men nursed their aching heads in the morning. 

Until then, though, he snuggled closer to his _very_ drunk and _very_ affectionate Captain and let himself enjoy the moment.


	17. Walk the Plank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: If your still looking for prompts, maybe Geralt or Jaskier having to walk the plank? After being caught by some other pirates at sea and the other swooshing in to save the day.

When his mysterious attackers finally pulled the dark burlap sack from over his head and let him blink back his sight, Jaskier sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “You have to be _fucking_ kidding me.”

The pirates from the alleyway had finally caught up with him again and this time they were _pissed._

He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten into this position and, all things consider, it didn’t really matter. What _did_ absolutely matter was the fact that he was standing at the beginning of a long wooden plank with his wrists bound securely behind his back. 

One half of the board, the half he was still standing on, was being held to the deck by several heavy bolts. The other was dangling out over the ocean.

“Get walking, boy. You humiliated our Captain, and he doesn’t take rejection lightly.”

Jaskier took one nervous step forward. Then another. The plank wobbled beneath his feet and he wanted to turn back towards the deck, only the tip of a sword poking sharply between his shoulder blades kept him moving forward.

Towards the sea.

Towards death. 

He could see the _Kaer Morhen_ approaching rapidly but they were still too far away to rescue him in time. If they fired the canons he might perish even sooner than if he were to drown.

He _is_ going to drown. 

He knows he’s about to die when his feet hit the edge of the board and the only thing in front of him is the choppy surface of the Redanian sea. At least he’ll get to keep this one last glance at his ship, his only true home, as he descends into whatever afterlife may exist. He notes, with a smile, the frantically moving white-haired figure sprinting away from the helm and towards the side of the boat closest to Jaskier.

“I love you, Geralt.”

Then he feels the sword dig into his skin at the top of his spine and he jerks, losing his balance and falling endlessly forward.

He hits the water with a _thud_ and drops quickly beneath the surface. In a few moments his lungs ache. A minute or so later and he can’t take the burning sensation anymore. He can’t help but gasp for air against his better judgement. He swallows a lungful of water and he…

Oh. Jaskier can still _breathe._

This is- well it’s good news for now and that’s all that matters. He kicks, moving towards the hull of the approaching _Morhen,_ his eyes stinging from the saltwater. He wriggles his shoulders upward and forward towards the surface of the sea. He can’t quite move his arms enough to make much progress but it really doesn’t matter.

A dark shape plunges into the water and makes its way towards him. It’s Geralt, of course, and he reaches Jaskier in a flash. He grabs his little siren by the forearm and kicks heavily towards the surface, dragging them both to safety. 

The enemy ship fires once. They miss. They adjust their sails and disappear around the corner of the cape with haste. The crew of pirates haul Jaskier and Geralt aboard and Geralt carries him to their cabin immediately. He assesses the younger man for damage. He kisses Jaskier fiercely and promises to never lose sight of him again. 

Jaskier doesn’t know how to bring up the fact that he can breathe underwater, not yet. He saves the thought for another day and allows himself to be coddled and looked after by his darling White Wolf. As Geralt slips into the tiny bed behind him and wraps him in warmth, Jaskier decides that it’s _definitely_ a discussion for another day.


	18. and down they fell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested "rescued from a hanging"

“Keep your filthy hands off of him!” Jaskier screamed, flailing wildly in the arms of a Cintran soldier. “Let him _go_ , damn it! I’m the one that started the damn fight! Take me instead!”

“We can’t just let him go you loudmouthed brat,” another soldier spat. “He’s a wanted criminal. We’d arrest you, too, but your father seems to be on good terms with the Duke.”

“Then do me and my father a favor and release Geralt immediately!” Jaskier argued. The man shook his head, the feather atop his helmet bobbing slightly with the motion. 

“Listen kid, you and the rest of the _Kaer_ _Morhen’_ s crew are allowed to leave whenever you like, so I’d probably fuck off out of port and start voting on who takes over as captain. The White Wolf is going to hang for his crimes against the Cintran and Skelligan Navies. End of discussion.”

The tall man holding Jaskier tossed him towards the otherwise silent crew. Eskel caught and steadied the pirate/bard. He could feel the young man’s shoulders trembling; probably a combination of terror and rage. The first mate opened his mouth before Jaskier could yell at the guardsmen again and get them all into trouble, “We’ll be leaving, then.”

“Wha-”

“He’s the first mate, Jas,” Geralt agreed calmly. “Listen to him.”

Jaskier’s head whipped back towards the Captain, whose hands were being manacled together behind his back. The white-haired pirate kept his shoulders back and his spine straight even as he was fettered. He didn’t want to let his little siren know just how scared he really was. If they didn’t come up with a plan in time, or if they decided not to make a rescue attempt at all, he would hang in the morning. He knew that much.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, tone firm. It was a promise. A declaration. Two much-adored syllables that encompassed the entirety of Jaskier’s world within them. 

“Jaskier.”

The soldiers turned away, his darling White Wolf secured between them, and made their way towards the prison. 

—

The Captain’s three closest friends could hear Jaskier’s wailing from their place in the galley, where they were planning his rescue. “Do you think we could get the lad to stop crying long enough to charm someone with that Voice of his?” Lambert asked.

“Maybe?” Eskel shrugged. “But I’d rather not test it out with the Captain in such immediate danger.”

“He’s going to upset the crew if he keeps caterwauling like this.”

“The crew is already upset!” Starkey huffed. “We should ask him to help us, though. Jaskier has gotten us out of more scrapes than I can count. Literally. I can’t count that high, my education was very limited.”

“You’re right,” Lambert sighed. Somehow he had become the little minx’s best friend aboard the _Kaer Morhen_. Maybe it was their equally sharp wit. Maybe it was their mutual love of teasing Geralt. Who knew? Not them. 

“Jask?” Lambert called, knocking on the cabin door. “We’re going to save him but we’d really like your help. You’re the one who’s good with people.”

Jaskier opened the door and Lambert was surprised to see that his face was dry and his eyes were clear. The sounds coming from the cabin couldn’t have been crying, then, so what had he been doing? The blue of Jaskier’s irises shone dangerously beneath the light of a dim lantern and a sense of icy, foreboding fear crawled down Lambert’s spine. _Why do I feel so afraid of being alone with him all of a sudden? It’s just Jaskier. What’s making me act like a child frightened of shadows beneath the bed?_

As if sensing his discomfort, Jaskier flicked his hair out of his face and smiled confidently, “Firstly, I’m going to need a distraction.”

“Oh, you already have a plan. Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know me.” The ex-noble strode past Lambert and towards the stairs to the galley, waving him along behind like a forgetful puppy. “Those sounds I was making weren’t cries of sadness, my dear. They were battle cries. Come along, Lamby, we don’t have all fucking week.”

The second mate followed him down, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and acceptance. _Cintra had better be prepared. No army in the world could be as dangerous as Jaskier when the Captain is in trouble._

—

Jaskier yanked the hangman’s black hood from his head and _screamed_. How the young man had managed to break in, incapacitate the _real_ hangman, and sneak onto the gallows platform was a mystery to everyone except the ex-noble himself (and he never did tell them the whole story). 

Regardless of how he’d managed to get there, he _was_ rescuing Geralt as promised.

The White Wolf’s mouth hung open in shock, his recently freed hands held firmly over his ears, as Jaskier released his pent up rage onto the crowd below. The sound was loud and full of fury. The siren’s shriek seemed never-ending, ringing out over the heads of the people that had gathered to watch his darling Geralt hang. Every passing second provided a fresh supply of wrath to fuel Jaskier’s Voice. These fools, these absolute _bastards_ had come all this way to watch his darling Captain be murdered for injuring some noble pride (and perhaps maybe also stealing). 

There was a wagon full of hay waiting beneath the door where Geralt stood. Eskel’s hands were tight on the reins of two strong horses, who would shortly be pulling them all towards the docks in a mad-dash for freedom. Jaskier knew the plan would go off without a hitch. As soon as he stopped his singing he would release the trapdoor and send them down into the wagon. Eskel would steer them to the lifeboat hidden in the cove. He and Lambert would row the smaller vessel back to the _Kaer Morhen,_ which would take them out to sea just as low tide hit the main shore and stranded the quicker navy vessels. 

He’d planned this excellently.

His Voice was growing tired from subduing so many people at once. 

As soon as he ran out of air, Jaskier wrapped one arm around Geralt’s waist and reached for the trapdoor’s release lever with the other. He looked the pirate straight in the eyes and said with great certainty: “I’m yours, you know, and I’ll love you still in hell.”

And down they fell.


	19. I wanna love you good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING
> 
> sequel to "and down they fell"

The crew, now with Geralt safely in tow, made it out to sea without a hitch just as Jaskier had planned (although perhaps his little _performance_ at the failed hanging had slowed the soldiers on their trail by quite a bit). The very much not hung-by-the-neck-until-dead Captain quickly resumed his duties. After he and Eskel charted a course for the opposite end of the coast, far from the navy that wanted them dead, Geralt excused himself.

“No worries, Captain,” Eskel replied. “You’ve had a very long day. The crew will be more than understanding.”

“At least I’m still here,” the pirate chuckled darkly. “Almost wasn’t.”

“You were always safe,” the first mate reassured him. “Jaskier had that plan ready to go almost as soon as you were taken captive.”

“Really?”

“He was practicing his _battle cries,_ Captain. He was going to save your life come hell or high water. I don’t mean to make any assumptions about your precious wife, Geralt, but it seems to me that sirens mate for life.”

“I think I agree with you,” Lambert said from his seat in the corner. “He was _scary.”_

 _“_ You should probably go see if he’s alright,” Starkey piped up. “The poor boy was practically feral.”

“Practically? I thought he was going to skin the dock manager alive when he suggested that Geralt deserved to be hung.”

“He came damn near close. If Bill Jukes hadn’t been there to hold him back…”

“There would have been two hangings,” Lambert chuckled. “Go see to your wife, Captain. We’ll take care of the ship and the watch rotation until tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Geralt nodded solemnly. “I appreciate it, lads.”

“Aye, Captain. We’re just glad you’re still here.”

“Me, too.”

—

As soon as the White Wolf closed his cabin door behind him, Jaskier appeared. The smaller man slammed Geralt up against the sturdy oak and made a low, possessive humming noise at the back of his throat. His hands were sweeping up the expanse of the Captain’s stomach and chest as he whispered roughly, “I won’t lose you like that. Not to the likes of them.”

“Them?” the Captain gasped. Jaskier’s unusually sharp teeth were nibbling a path along Geralt’s clothed shoulder and the Captain’s brain wasn’t quite as engaged with the conversation as it could be. His calloused sailor’s hands were scrabbling for purchase against the material of Jaskier’s borrowed burgundy shirt as his wife continued to caress and mark him.

The younger man pulled away for a moment and his eyes flashed silvery-strange in the waning light through the porthole. Geralt’s heart stuttered in his chest. Every instinct in his body was urging him to flee; the Siren half of his little Jaskier was coming totally to the surface. 

The half-siren’s voice had a strangely melodic quality to it when he said; “ _They_ were humans. Low, filthy, horrible humans. They tried to _take_ you from me. They tried to _kill_ my Geralt, my Captain, my husband. They cannot have you. Never." 

Geralt couldn’t focus on the litany of angry words too closely because Jaskier’s hands were touching him _everywhere_ as he spoke. They smoothed across his shoulders and palmed at his biceps. Long, nimble fingers made quick work of his shirt, unlacing and removing it in the span of one shaky breath. Then the hands were back, touching and teasing and caressing. 

The pirate was being taken apart by his eager little siren.

When Jaskier paused his effort to give Geralt’s torso a greedy once-over, the Captain noticed that his blue eyes seemed feverish, his pupils heavily dilated. "Jaskier? Are you okay?”

“Yes, my love. Now that you’re safe. Now that my darling mate is safe.”

His hands were fluttering across Geralt’s chest as he spoke, assessing him for any signs of injury. When none presented themselves, the siren latched his teeth against the skin of Geralt’s neck and began to mark it in earnest.

“Mine,” Jaskier growled, biting and sucking at the same patch of skin near Geralt’s collarbone until it was deep purple and throbbing. The Captain could barely stand on his own two legs, too overcome with sensation to do much other than pant and whine. 

“Jaskier,” he gasped. The siren maneuvered his captive husband to the bed and laid him on his back with exquisite tenderness. His eyes softened and his lids dropped slightly. He buried his nose against the side of Geralt’s neck and breathed in deeply. 

Their torsos settled together and Jaskier sighed happily at the contact. “Mine.”

“I’ve always been yours,” Geralt said, having finally regained the ability to speak. “I am your husband and you are my wife. You are a member of the _Kaer Morhen’_ s crew.”

“Yours,” Jaskier nodded his agreement. This side of his little nymph was different and strange; possessive and terrifying and _beautifully_ insatiable as he began to mouth a new trail from one of side of the Captain’s chest to the other. Geralt moaned and arched up to meet his lover’s eager tongue as it swirled around one pert and sensitive nipple.

The siren made an impressive show of strength by grabbing the pirate’s wrists and pinning them to the bed at either side of this head. “Stay,” he ordered, voice still shot-through with that melodic, dangerous quality. Geralt obeyed.

Jaskier scooted down the bed and settled between the Captain’s spread thighs. He licked a slow, teasing stripe up the bottom of Geralt’s cock and smiled when his husband bucked his hips. His Voice was clear now, striking to the very center of Geralt’s body and wrapping him in pleasure. “My pretty White Wolf. My delicate, handsome husband. How sweet you are when you’re laid out like this. Only mine to look at. Only mine to touch.”

Geralt’s eyes were open but he saw very little. The combination of Jaskier’s half-spoken, half-sung words and the feeling of that warm, wet mouth lowering its way down his erection were _fucking incredible._ He keened, unashamed, and writhed against the mattress. He wanted desperately to move his hands but wasn’t sure how this primal version of his little wife would react to disobedience. 

He didn’t last long with the way Jaskier was humming and bobbing his head, his hands moving to touch Geralt’s thighs, hips, and abdomen. The Captain came with a shout and the siren took it all without batting an eye. 

Slowly, as he gasped his way back to reality, Geralt realized that the panicked look in the half-siren’s eyes was fading. The silver tinge was gone and the shiny quality had disappeared. “My love?” he croaked.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. He curled up against the Captain’s side and reached for one of his large hands. The brunette kissed his way across the top of each of Geralt’s fingers. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I think I did,” the Captain chuckled. That made his little wife smile again and look up. 

“You’re not angry? I should have asked for more definite consent.”

“There was plenty of consent,” Geralt said. “Trust me.”

“Hmmm. I love you,” Jaskier purred, nuzzling his way back into Geralt’s slightly sweaty neck. The pirate grinned. “I’m never letting you go again.”

“I love you too,” the White Wolf replied. “Now let me take care of you.”

“Oh, sweet husband,” the younger man winked. “If you insist.”


	20. Hear Me on the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jaskier forced into an arranged marriage. Geralt rescues him.
> 
> Tw: depression

Everything happening around Jaskier felt murky and far away, as if it was happening to someone else instead and he had only managed to catch parts of it. His body was jostled and moved and contorted and lifted and carried. He felt battered and exhausted despite being unconscious for the better part of five whole days. 

They kept the kidnapped nobleman drugged and groggy as he was smuggled from a private port in Oxenfurt to his family’s estate in Lettenhove. Once he arrived at the keep and the sleeping drought wore off, his family’s hired mage put him under an enchantment. He obeyed direct orders and could not speak of his own volition; it was hell.

He knew he was being punished for all the trouble he’d caused at sea. He had used their family name to get Geralt out of trouble more than once and now the real Lord Pankratz was getting his revenge. He was marrying Jaskier off to the Countess once and for all.

With no pirates to interfere.

—

When the day of Jaskier’s wedding arrived, the young noble felt his heart shatter apart in his chest. The servants dressed and groomed him, trimming the hair he’d worked so hard to grow out while at sea. He knew how much Geralt loved to curl his fingers there and drag them against the smooth skin at the back of his neck. He almost shuddered at the thought of that sensation alone.

But it didn’t matter, did it? He’d never see his darling White Wolf again. 

He’d been grabbed off the street some dingy port town in Temeria and rushed across the straight to Oxenfurt overnight. Geralt probably didn’t even know where he was or who had taken him. Jaskier would probably be on his heavily guarded honeymoon by the time his Captain found him again.

He was ordered downstairs by his Mother and he marched into the great hall for his wedding ceremony with a grim sense of acceptance.

—

“Do you, Countess Rosamund Elise DeStael of Rinde, take Lord Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Lord Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove, take Countess Rosamund Elise DeStael of Rinde to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was aching over the loss of his Geralt like a wounded man grieves for a lost limb. Even in he agreed to this marriage he’d be a living corpse, anyhow. He’d never smile again if he said ‘I do’ and accepted the Countess as his wife. She was a _piss poor_ replacement for his mischievous, tender, possessive White Wolf. 

As the silence lengthened in the great hall and his Father glared him down from his place next to the priest, something deep in his chest came bubbling up. It wrenched itself from him, screaming for freedom. 

It was his _voice_. 

Not his normal voice, however. No. This voice was bright and brassy and _dark._ It was full of the pain of a thousand drowned sailors. He let it come bursting forth from his mouth, filling the air with words he didn’t know he’d even learned. Words in a language he _felt_ but didn’t _understand_. 

The priest fell to his knees, as did his father and his would-be wife. Every person in the keep who could hear his voice suddenly fell to the ground and desperately tried to cover their ears. The siren in him had reached its limit. It wanted its beloved mate. His Captain. His Geralt.

He wouldn’t be pacified until they were together again.

Luckily…

“I object!” Lambert yelled. The familiar pirate burst through the doors of the great hall with his cutlass drawn. Starkey and Eskel were close behind, with his darling White Wolf taking up the rear. Three of the four pirates fell to their knees like the rest of the party-goers but Geralt remained standing. 

Jaskier realized that he was still singing. The tone had changed from deep-seated hatred and loss to something brighter and lighter at Geralt’s appearance. Something soft and full of love. He let himself babble out the unfamiliar notes and words as his Captain moved towards him down the aisle. Only when those strong arms held him tightly and those chapped lips pressed against his own did Jaskier cease his singing.

“Sirens,” Eskel groaned, pulling himself to a standing position. “You are not to be fucked with, Jaskier.”

“Wait, Geralt, if I can’t be compelled by sirens then why can my family?”

Lord Pankratz looked guilty and wouldn’t make eye contact with any of the pirates or his son. Geralt shrugged. “Maybe you were a foundling.”

Jaskier turned to his Father with wide, angry eyes. “You absolute bas-”

“My love,” Geralt murmured, tightening his grip on the younger man’s waist. His little nymph stilled in his arms at the sound of his voice. “There’s still a wedding to be had, if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to marry the Countess.”

“I didn’t say it was your wedding to her,” Geralt grinned. His siren’s eyes swam with happy tears and he nodded enthusiastically. “As you said to me once before, my love, let us never be parted.”


	21. Two Pirate Weddings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two distinctly different weddings of our fav Captain and his half-siren wife.

The crew kept Jaskier’s family firmly in their seats by way of _pointy steel persuasion_ and took a few of the empty chairs themselves _._ The minor nobility’s wedding would continue as planned but the bride, well…the bride was escorted rather quickly into the audience and Geralt took her place at the altar. 

“From the beginning,” the White Wolf growled to the priest. Jaskier knew the grumpy behavior was mostly for show because the Captain’s hand was holding his so _tenderly._ Like he’d never let it go again.

Knowing Geralt, he might not.

“Do you, Lord Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove, take uh…”

“Geralt.”

“Do you take _Geralt_ to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” the noble/pirate sighed. He smiled softly up into the eyes of his darling Captain and waited for those same to words to grace his ears.

“Do you…Geralt, take Lord Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove to be your lawfully wedded…uhm…”

“Wife,” Jaskier suggested helpfully. “I am so looking forward to hearing about this from the crew, after all.”

“Wife?”

“I do.”

“I now pronounce you, uh, man and wife, then.”

Geralt threw Jaskier up over his shoulder and exited the temple. His crew followed close behind, snagging whatever finery they could on their way out the door.

—

Two days later and very far away, as the ship lay hidden and anchored in a lonely island cove, Geralt knelt before Jaskier on the quarterdeck. He took the younger man’s hand in his and brushed a reverent kiss to the back of his knuckles. “I never want you taken from me again,” he said. “Marry me?”

“We just _got_ married, husband dear,” the noble blushed brightly. “You’d like to do it again?”

“Matelotage,” the White Wolf explained. “We’ll be married by the laws of the sea as well as the laws of the land.”

“Then yes, my Captain,” Jaskier nodded. “I would love to marry you again.”

That night the ex-nobleman and the fearsome pirate swore their loyalty to each other and only each other before the rest of the crew. They drank and danced and made merry with their closest friends. “The bride shouldn’t have to sing at his own wedding party!” Starkey laughed, dancing along to the bawdy jig anyway. “It’s sacrilege!”

“Can anyone else play?” Jaskier paused his singing to ask. Jukes took the lute and did his best to carry on, gesturing for the ex-noble to take Geralt’s hand. 

“Come here, wife,” the Captain demanded, smirking. He yanked Jaskier down into his lap and pressed a series of rum-soaked kisses along his neck. “Let me hold you for a moment.”

“Husband,” the younger man beamed. “Will you dance with me after you’re done soaking in my presence?”

“Aye.”

“Lovely.”

“I love you, little siren.”

“And I you, my dashing, crazy pirate Captain. With all my heart and soul for the rest of our days.”

“May your lives be long and your loving be loud!” Lambert cheered, holding up his mug of rum. The rest of the crew cheered along, toasting the newly married couple a second time. 

“Knowing Jaskier,” Starkey added with a wink. “It will be.”


	22. Honeymoon Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I think after all the stress of getting married, jaskier and geralt need both a vacation and honeymoon, are there any nice islands for them to stop off on and take a break for liken a week?

The tiny island where Geralt takes Jaskier is apparently one of the pirate’s secret hideouts. “We’ll rest here for a week or so and resupply with fresh fruit and water. The men are going to stay on this half of the island and we,” the pirate Captain smiled softly, “Are going to my personal hut on the other side.”

“How did I know you’d be a big old loner?” Jaskier teased. 

“Well I’m not a loner anymore.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.”

A gentle kiss was pressed to the top of Jaskier’s head. His unruly brown hair had grown back a bit and he felt less and less like a noble with every passing millimetre. It was wonderful. 

“Husband dear,” he smiled coyly. “Is this our honeymoon, then?”

“I suppose it is,” the Captain nodded. “So that means it’s my duty to carry you over the threshold.”

“That’s absolutely adorable, my love.”

“Hmm.”

—

Geralt did carry Jaskier over the threshold of his ramshackle island cabin. The pirate carried his darling little wife all the way to the makeshift bed and set him down delicately on the edge. “Welcome to my humble home away from home.”

“It’s lovely.” 

Jaskier cast a glance around the small, one-room hut. It was made of an unfamiliar and roughly-hewn wood but it seemed sturdy. Rough and sturdy; like his husband. “Oh Captain,” the siren called, pitching his voice in the way he knew Geralt liked. High and breathy. “Won’t you come join me?”

“Hmm.” The pirate slipped off his heavy leather boots and nudged Jaskier closer to the center of the mattress. “Make room, wife.”

Geralt laid down on his back and Jaskier straddled his waist immediately. The white-haired man raised a curious eyebrow and bit his lip when his little siren wriggled against him. “Oh my darling husband,” the brunette teased with another _very unfair_ movement. “However will we spend the week?”

The Captain smirked beneath him and thrust upwards once, bouncing the younger man almost comically. Jaskier laughed and peppered his husband’s face with happy kisses. “I’m sure we can think of some good ways to pass the time.”


	23. tatted up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: If you're still taking prompts, I was thinking of pirate things lol, and- what if Jaskier got a tattoo for Geralt? What day you on the subject :D?

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, blinking slowly like if he did it enough the image before him might fade or change, “What the hell is that?”

“Oh, do you like it?” 

Jaskier was standing half-dressed in the middle of their shared cabin, smiling down at the image inked into his soft, sun-tanned skin. The crew gone ashore last night and Jaskier hadn’t gotten home until much later than Geralt or Eskel. Lambert had delivered the ex-noble, already half-asleep on his feet, into the Captain’s care in the early morning hours. 

Now Geralt knew what had taken him so long.

A small compass rose lay flat against the ex-noble’s hip. The skin was red and irritated around the edges but there it was. “Why?”

“The man at the tattoo parlor said that this symbolizes guidance. As long as I have this with me I’ll be able to find my way home.”

Jaskier moved close and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s torso. The Captain’s finger traced a wide circle around the fresh tattoo and he smiled. “Where’s home?”

The nobleman-turned-pirate whispered his answer against the scarred skin of his lover’s chest, instilling each and every word with his bright and shining siren’s sense of loyalty and love: “Right here, with you.”


	24. By Your Art, Put the Wild Waters in a Roar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Competent Jaskier

“Geralt, what do you want us to do now?” Jaskier called over the sound of the wind. His Captain didn’t reply. Suddenly concerned, the _Kaer Morhen_ ’s newest crew member twisted around to glance across the quarterdeck. Through the pouring rain and swirling mist he could see how Geralt lay slumped against the ship’s enormous steering wheel, held up only by the ropes around his chest and waist. His knees had buckled and his arms were resting haphazardly against the turning pins. He looked like a scarecrow or a puppet that had been snipped free of its strings.

Geralt was in trouble and so was the ship if no one was steering against the swelling waves.

The deck was slick with rain and crashing seawater but Jaskier knew he was the only person close enough to help. He checked the knot securing the tie around his waist to the thick oak anchor of the mizzenmast. He wouldn’t go overboard so long as the rope and the mast remained intact. The young man took a deep breath, steadied himself, and took a slow step forward. The deck was pitching and rolling but he’d been aboard this ship long enough to know what storms were like. His legs adjusted to the tempest’s rhythm and he slid even closer to his lover’s crumpled form. 

“Eskel! Lambert!” Jaskier shouted to the first and second mate over the gale. “Secure the forward jib and get belowdecks! Starkey, Jukes, Silver, you batten down the mizzen sails and make sure the portside belaying pins are secure!”

“Aye Captain!” Eskel called automatically. He stopped halfway to the forward jib and glanced back over his shoulder. Geralt was still tied to the _Kaer Morhen’_ s massive steering wheel but Jaskier was the one directing the ship’s course. The Captain himself was passed out cold, probably hit from behind by a wave and knocked against one of the wheel’s heavy beams. He’d seen it happen before but this was the first time since he’d signed aboard the _Morhen_. 

“Shouldn’t _you_ be up there?” Lambert asked, gesturing vaguely through the rain towards Jaskier’s wide-legged stance at the helm. “Aren’t you the first mate?”

“Fuck it!” Eskel replied. “We don’t have time for petty nonsense. He’s making the right decisions, anyhow!”

“Grab that rope and pass it this way!” 

The men followed Jaskier’s instructions and soon the ship was battened town tightly against the raging winds and roaring waves. Somehow, with the ex-noble at the helm, they made it through the gale alive and intact.

—

Geralt woke up in his bed with a pounding headache and sunshine streaming in through the small, round porthole. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here; the last thing he remembered was…“The storm!”

“Long since passed, love.”

The bright eyed half-siren was sitting next to him, running his long fingers through the Captain’s white hair. “Jaskier, what happened?”

“You got hit from behind by a particularly nasty wave and knocked against one of the pins,” Jaskier held up a small hand-mirror. There was a mottled purple bruise above Geralt’s right eyebrow. “It’ll heal soon enough but I wouldn’t suggest getting out of bed today. Maybe even tomorrow. You could have a dizzy spell and fall overboard.”

“Hmm.” The pirate ignored the advice of his little nymph; there were things he needed to do. A ship that needed its Captain. He tried to sit up but found it nearly impossible, waves of nausea and vertigo pushing him back down against the straw mattress pad. Jaskier smirked as if to say _I told you so._ “Did Eskel manage to get us out of the gale alright? Was anything damaged?”

“No,” the first mate answered, poking his head through the open door. He looked tired but no worse for wear. “Your little nymph managed to steer us clear of the worst bits. There are a few torn sails but we expected that. The winds were strong and the waves were high.”

Geralt looked up at Jaskier, totally awestruck. The pride and reverence in that honey-golden gaze held Jaskier frozen in place. The siren blushed and waved a dismissive hand towards Eskel, still unable to look away from his enraptured Captain. “Go annoy Lambert or something, dear. I’m busy with my patient.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Eskel disappeared from the doorway as soon as the siren commanded it.

“Hey,” the White Wolf frowned. “I’m the Captain. That’s _my_ title. You’re the minx or the nymph or sometimes _you little bastard_ but I’M the Captain.”

“It’ll be your rightful title again when you can get up from bed without hurling,” Jaskier insisted. “For now, though, let me have my fun.”

“And me?”

“I’ll take good care of you, my sweet. A good Captain always takes care of his crew.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

Jaskier brushed a gentle kiss to Geralt’s bruised forehead and tangled their fingers together over the Captain’s chest. With the glow of the early morning sun framing his face and illuminating the golden highlights hidden in the noble’s brown hair, Jaskier looked like some character ripped straight from a fairytale. 

The Captain squeezed his hand where they were connected and smiled. “My little nymph.”

The half-siren laid a less-gentle kiss to Geralt’s lips.


	25. wrapped up in you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Would you be interested in writing something about Geralt getting flustered after seeing Jaskier wearing/borrowing his clothes?? Idk if you’ve done something like this yet but I just love the idea

Geralt had the late watch, which meant that Jaskier would have to fall asleep by himself. The siren had late watch the night before and hadn’t gotten to fall asleep next to the Captain then, either. It was annoying. He missed the smell of sweat and tar and seawater that mingled against his husband’s skin. It was comforting.

It had grown impossible to go to sleep without it.

Rather than break the rules and interrupt the watch cycle, Jaskier rummaged through the chest at the end of their bed for one of Geralt’s shirts. It was slightly too big on him, falling to the tops of his thighs rather nicely, and made for the perfect sleepwear. He slipped it over his head and admired himself in it for a moment. The soft black material was good quality and worn from months at sea.

He curled into a ball on their bed, arms wrapped around Geralt’s abandoned pillow, and fell slowly into sleep. 

When Geralt’s watch rotation ended he returned to his cabin, ready for sleep. He opened the door and held back a gasp; Jaskier was wearing his shirt. 

Just his shirt. And his smalls. 

His legs, pale and hirsute in the moonlight filtering through the porthole, were pulled up around Geralt’s pillow protectively. He looked _adorable. “_ Good evening, wife, I’ve come to sleep.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier was the one who hummed this time, half-asleep and groggy. “Come to bed.”

“I will.”

The Captain watched with adoring eyes as his little siren relinquished the crumpled pillow and reached out for his husband. His hands clenched and un-clenched, grasping empty air in their search for Geralt. “Husband.”

“Wife,” Geralt replied. “I only need to take off my boots.”

“Hurry.”

“Hmm.” Geralt disrobed quickly and slid into bed next to his darling little nymph. “Are you wearing one of my shirts?”

“Yeah. Smells like you. Can’t fall asleep with out it.”

“Oh.”

The thought that Jaskier needed something of _Geralt’s_ in order to even fall asleep was mind blowing. The pirate had never felt so loved or depended upon. He’d have to stop challenging larger ships and working in heavily-patrolled coastal waters. He needed to live, now. He had something to live _for;_ and that something was wrapped in one of his favorite shirts, nuzzling gently and insistently against his chest as he tried to get comfortable.

“Go to sleep, chatty husband.”

“Goodnight, little wife.”

“Goodnight.”


	26. oh captain, my captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: It's Jaskier's birthday and Geralt forgot
> 
> inspired by Good Charlotte's "Like It's Her Birthday"

“What’s gotten into Jaskier?” Geralt asked. The first mate gave him a bewildered look, as if he should already know the answer to such a stupid question, and shook his head before replying. **  
**

“One can never be sure; usually it’s you.”

“He seems even more energetic than usual and everyone keeps complimenting him,” the Captain observed, ignoring Eskel’s innuendo entirely. “Is he sick or something?”

“No,” Eskel shrugged. He crossed his arms over his chest and nudged Geralt with his shoulder. “Are you going to meet us at the tavern tonight? They’re having some kind of special performance and Jaskier wants to see it.”

“I suppose. I need to finish counting out the shares from that Redanian galley we took last week.”

“You’d better show up and you’d better not be too late,” the first mate warned. “I’ll see you later, Captain.”

—

As Geralt made his way into the boatswain’s small compartment to finish counting out and recording the shares, Jaskier exited their cabin and headed for the gangplank. The younger man was dressed in his finest peacock-blue linen breeches and a white shirt with puffy sleeves and cinched wrists. He’d swept his hair out of his face and secured it with an emerald green silk bandanna; a peacock indeed. He looked elegant and very, very soft; Geralt wanted to slide his hands beneath that shirt and feel the silken skin hidden there but he had other things to do first. 

“Aren’t you coming to the tavern with us, Captain?” Jaskier called.

The White Wolf nodded, “Aye. I just have to finish counting out the shares so the crew can spend their money properly tomorrow.”

“Don’t be too long,” his little siren said. “Or you’ll miss all the fun. It’s a very special day after all.”

“Aye, that it is.” 

The younger man smiled brightly before dancing his way down the plank and onto solid land. Geralt hurried to finish his task; he didn’t want to miss the opportunity for some personal time with his darling siren of a wife.

—

By the time Geralt finished counting out the last of the shares from their latest prize and made his way to the tavern, Jaskier was already well past tipsy. The brunette man was laughing brightly, his cheeks tinted a vibrant pink as he sat atop the bar with a tin mug of bad wine clutched in his hand. Starkey was sitting on the stool to his left and Lambert had the one to his right. They both gave him odd looks when he caught their eyes.

“Geralt!” Jaskier cheered as he waved the Captain towards his apparent seat of honor. The pirate noted with much amusement that the lad had removed his shoes and stockings and rolled his breeches up over his knees. The laces of his shirt were also loose and the material had been pulled aside to reveal the expanse of his flushed chest.

“Nymph,” the Captain greeted, butting their foreheads together gently. His hands slid into place against his wife’s slender hips. Jaskier hooked his bare calves and ankles around Geralt’s lower back and used his strong legs to yank him forward. The siren was fit and his legs kept the Captain’s abdomen pressed tightly against the edge of the bar. “Feeling confident tonight, are we?”

“The crew and these lovely strangers keep buying me drinks,” Jaskier tittered. “Because it’s my birthday today.”

“It is?” Geralt panicked. He hadn’t even thought to ask and here Jaskier was, staring up at him with those devastatingly blue eyes, expecting something from his husband on his special day. The Captain wasn’t prepared in the slightest. “I didn’t know. I haven’t gotten you anything.”

“Oh Captain,” the ex-noble pouted, sticking out his bottom lip attractively. “How very rude of you to have forgotten. You’ll just have to make it up to me.”  
“How do I do that, little wife?”

Geralt ignored the strange looks from neighboring patrons when he addressed Jaskier that way; he knew how much those words made the younger man light up with joy and pride. The noble was doing it now, puffing out his chest and twining his arms around Geralt’s neck possessively. His lips brushed against his husband’s teasingly as he spoke, “Oh, I’m sure we can think of a way.”

“Bartender,” Geralt called, smirking. “Another round for the house.”


	27. Sweet Talking the Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Geralt is actually really fucking smooth romantically and Jaskier tries to call him on it and ends up getting the absolute life flirted out of him

_“_ Jaskier,” Geralt calls, wading his way through the bustling tavern to meet the younger man at the bar. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, little nymph.”

“I told you where I’d be going,” the younger man pouts cutely, sticking his lip out. Geralt leans down to nip at it, uncaring about the other patrons’ reactions. Jaskier blushes and buries his head against his husband’s broad, strong shoulder. He glances up through his eyelashes the way he know Geralt likes and asks, “Get everything traded off, paid for, and dealt with?”

“Aye, and we’ll resupply tomorrow,” the Captain explains. Jaskier nods his understanding. He’s been aboard long enough to understand the basic procedures involved with selling stolen cargo and restocking the ships’ stores for their next venture. He’s even helped Starkey take stock of the galley before. Not to mention his childhood spent among the nobility, which allows him to identify rare or expensive items aboard their target ships better than most of the others. He regularly keeps them from getting cheated by merchants or fences.

“So what are your plans for this evening then, Captain?”

“Well, Jaskier,” the pirate murmurs, sliding his hand along the skin of his darling’s waist, just beneath the hem of his shirt, “I was thinking we could spend some quality time together.”

“And if I’d like to stay ashore and drink a little longer?”

“You, my sweet wife,” the Captain continues to speak lowly and sweetly, tightening his grip on Jaskier’s slender hips, “Can do or have anything you’d like.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier teases, eyes roaming the tavern’s support beams as if his answer lies there, “Perhaps I’d like for you to do something impossible.”

“For you, my love, _nothing_ is impossible,” the white-haired pirate asserts, slowly bringing their chests together by sliding a hand up Jaskier’s spine. He ghosts his lips against his little siren’s ear as he speaks, leaning down and nearly caging the younger man in against the bar with the mass of his body. He can hear Jaskier’s breathing growing more and more labored as he tries to remain calm. The bard doesn’t look panicked, though, so Geralt continues with his breathy onslaught, “I would sail the _Kaer Morhen_ up to the stars if you so desired, and fashion you a circlet made of night. I would turn myself in to the Redanian authorities and let your Father keep me in his dungeon for as long as he wishes. I would fight to the death with any man here if you willed me to do it, love.”

“Geralt,” the half-siren gasped, breath caught somewhere between his throat and his lungs. “You-”

“Are madly in love,” the pirate asserted. The hand resting between Jaskier’s shoulder blades reached up to cradle the back of his head and the bard sighed, lips parting to accept Geralt’s claim on them. The White Wolf trails kisses across his little nymph’s jaw and over to the spot behind his ear where he knows the younger man is sensitive. The Captain whispers again, clearly enjoying the effect he has on his darling wife, “ _Anything_ you want, _anything_ that catches your passing fancy, I will give to you.”

“Well, it’s more than just a passing fancy,” Jaskier replies, blue eyes captivated by Geralt’s gold, “But I would like to claim your heart as my own.”

The White Wolf’s fingers move from behind his siren’s head to finger the red silk bandanna holding his brown locks out of his eyes. “Remember when you stole this from me for the first time?”

“Yes. That was also the day of our first kiss,” Jaskier blushes.

“You said that I could have this piece of fabric, but that you wouldn’t give my heart back,” Geralt rumbles. “And as far as I know, you’ve had it ever since. I cannot give to you what you already own, my dear little nymph.”

Jaskier tears up and kisses his Captain. His husband. His love.

“You sap.”

“Hmm. Your Captain.”

“Aye.”


	28. Finding Baby Ciri

The ash-blond baby is tiny. 

So, so tiny.

Jaskier holds her in his arms like it’s second nature, though, cradling her to his chest and crooning at her in a language that Geralt only barely understands. He’s only ever heard Jaskier sound like this twice before; at their impromptu wedding at Castle Pankratz, and when the Captain was almost hung. 

This baby…

“Is she…like you?”

“Not quite.”

“But you’re using your Voice. You’re speaking the Language.”

“She is not like me,” Jaskier smiles. Geralt thinks the expression is almost _sad_. “But we are similar.”

“She isn’t a siren, then?”

Jaskier lowers the little girl’s chubby legs into the water and the two men watch them shift and connect into one short and equally chubby green-finned tail. The half-siren looks up at his husband with wide, watery eyes. “She’s beautiful. A mermaid.”

“Half-mermaid?”

“No, probably three-quarters. She shifts smoothly and she babbles only in the Language. She could live a full and comfortable life beneath the waves, totally ignorant of her human blood.”

“Where are her parents?” 

Jaskier gestures vaguely in the direction of a rocky outcropping and Geralt sees two distant figures. “They’re dead,” the brunette sighs. “I saw her all alone and went looking for them. It’s pretty bad. Fisherman’s net, I think. Their tails are…”

The younger man pulls the baby up out of the water and nearly crushes her against his chest. He begins to sway slightly and sing to her under his breath, quietly letting his Voice take over. Geralt steps away and thinks for a moment.

“We can take her with us.”

“What?”

“The baby, the mermaid.”

“Cirilla,” Jaskier says. Geralt raises an eyebrow. “She introduced herself.”

“Hmm.”

“Ciri can stay?”

“…Yes,” the pirate sighs. He gathers both of them into his arms and presses an instinctual, feather-light kiss to the top of the girl’s head. She gurgles and laughs, reaching out for his wolf medallion. He lets her play with it, already head-over-heels for the wide-eyed baby. “Oh yes, she can stay.”


	29. Rescued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: siren!jask saves Geralt

Geralt was quickly running out of air. Something had gotten hold of his ankle and was dragging him steadily toward the bottom of the cove. Black spots swam across his vision and his lungs burned; he was going to inhale water very shortly. 

“ **Get away from him.”**

_Oh thank gods._

The creature holding onto Geralt’s leg quickly released him, darting away into the shadows as Jaskier hurriedly approached. The siren scooped his husband into his arms and shot up to the surface. He held Geralt’s head above the water and watched with worried eyes as the pirate Captain took several huge gulps of fresh air. “Are you alright, my love?”

“Aye, little nymph,” Geralt coughed. “I’ll be fine.”

—

“You could have been taken from me today,” the half-siren murmurs, running a hand down Geralt’s arm as they lay in bed together.

“But I wasn’t.”

“I need to keep a closer eye on you, husband mine. So I don’t lose you to the sea or a sword.”

“Or a hangman’s noose,” the Captain adds helpfully. Jaskier frowns and wraps his arms even tighter around the enormous pirate. “I’ll be fine, little wife. You worry too much.”

Jaskier gives him a quick kiss. “Just worried enough to keep you alive.”

“I know you’ll keep me safe.”

“ **Hush now, and go to sleep**.”

Geralt yawns. “That’s cheating.”

“I’ll be sleeping right next to you, so no it isn’t.”

“Fine. Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, sweet Captain.”


	30. Ciri, No!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri uses her Voice when she reallllly shouldn't

Geralt waded into the shallow cove until the water reached his hips. As soon as he stopped moving, Ciri swam over to him like a shot. She burst out of the water with a happy giggle, throwing her hair back and splashing the taller of her two adoptive fathers. “Papa! Up!”

The beaming pirate Captain obliged, hauling the squirming mermaid out of the water and into his arms. “Are you swimming with Father?”

“Mhm. He goes so fast, faster than me!”

“Do you need to take a rest?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“ **Put me down.”** Geralt let Ciri slip from his arms and into the waves. After a moment he shook his head and frowned. 

“Did she do it again?” Jaskier asked, floating over on his back and gazing up into his husband’s narrowed eyes. 

“Yes.”

“We’ll have a talk with her later.”

Geralt bent down to scoop his pretty siren up into his strong hold. “But for now, let’s have us a kiss.”

“Aye,” Jaskier blushed, pressing his lips to his Captain’s. “Maybe a few kisses.”


	31. You Like That?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue Prompt: "you like that?"

Geralt slams Jaskier up against the back of the closed door and rips his chemise straight down the middle. 

“ _Geralt,”_ the half siren whines. “That’ll take all afternoon to fix and even then everyone will know what happened!”

“You don’t care if they know,” the Captain snorts. “You preen like a lovesick peacock every time I give you a new love-bite.”

Jaskier slips. He doesn’t mean to, honestly, but it just kind of _happens._ He speaks in his Voice, “ **Then give me another, Captain.”**

Geralt is compelled to obey, nipping his way down Jaskier’s long, pale throat to his collarbone, where he begins to suck and bite more pointedly. He makes sure the mark is a dark, deep purplish blue before he stops. He realizes a bit belatedly that he’s panting hard. _Had he even paused to breathe!?_

 _“_ Oops.”

“No that was…” Geralt shakes his head.

“…You like that?” the Captain’s wife teases, running his hands down the outside of Geralt’s strong arms. “When I use my Voice like that?”

Geralt nods minutely but it’s all the giddy ex-noble needs by way of agreement. 

“ **Kiss me, husband. Kiss me deep.”**

And by the stars in the sky, Geralt does.


	32. "Kidnapped"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Someone sent me an ask about Jaskier getting kidnapped and using his Voice to take over the other ship. I wrote it but I lost the ask! Here you go!

When the _Kaer Morhen_ finally pulled against the side of the _Redbeard’s Revenge_ Geralt saw something he hadn’t been expecting at all. Rather than having to pull Jaskier out of the clutches of some horrible torture and end the lives of the opposing crew, Geralt saw…nothing.

The ship was being packed away. Sailors were bringing all the valuables up onto the deck in orderly pairs. The Captain was- The Captain was _Jaskier._ The beaming half-siren was sitting in a large and comfortable chair at the base of the mainmast, a sparkling sapphire tiara planted firmly atop his head. “Royalty!” he piped, meeting his husband’s probing gaze as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“J-Jaskier?”

“ **Load those boxes onto the pirate ship,”** Jaskier suddenly ordered, snapping in the direction of two unfamiliar sailors. “I’ve been having a lovely time. As soon as they took the gag out it was all over, really. Poor dears.”

Geralt leapt the expanse between their decks and rushed to his reclining wife, kneeling at the side of his apparent throne. “My love, are you alright?”

“Didn’t you hear me, darling? One moment,” he turned to one of the blank-faced crewmembers. **“You there, fetch Captain Geralt’s present, please.”**

“Aye, Captain.”

“Captain?” Geralt quirked an eyebrow. “Should I begin the negotiations for taking your ship?”

“Only if those negotiations include taking me as well,” the half-siren smirked. 

The zombified crewman returned and placed a solid wooden box in Jaskier’s hands. The ex-noble, still comfortably seated and leaning towards his kneeling pirate husband, opened it slowly and turned it to face Geralt. A lovely silver necklace laid against a pale blue velvet backdrop. It was set at the center with a silver flower and several small pearls. “For you, my sweet White Wolf.”

“Jaskier…”

“You gave me a lovely gift once. I figured, since I took this ship by accident, that I would pay you back.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“Yes, well. **Carry me back to our room this instant, and order the others to take care of things**.”

Geralt had no choice but to obey; and he did so happily.


	33. Look Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Horny prompt because I can't do angst Swashbuckling AU: Jaskier and Geralt both really drunk and just flirting outrageous with each other and the crew looks on in amusement and horror. Hope your work life improves! Have a good day/night!
> 
> tw: horny shenanigans

Eskel, Starkey, and Lambert winced in unison when they heard the loud _smack_ from across the bar. “That had to be Jaskier.”

“It couldn’t have been anyone else. Nobody else in the crew uses that much of a wind-up,” Starkey nods.

“No one else in the crew slaps the Captain’s ass in public,” Lambert snorted. “I wonder how Geralt is going to retaliate.”

“Jaskier is now seated _on_ the bar.”

“Oh good gods.”

“Are they?”

“Yeah.”

Starkey retches dramatically and turns away. “Barkeep? Another round.”

—

Geralt’s mouth was latched firmly against the side of Jaskier’s throat, sucking a dark purple bruise onto the sensitive skin there. His little wife was writhing against him, fisting his musician’s hands into the Captain’s long white locks. “Oh, Geralt!”

“Yes, little nymph?”

“Another, please. Give me another.”

“Hmm,” the pirate hummed, nipping against the skin he’d just finished marking. “If you are very good.”

“And what must I do to be good?” the half-siren panted. Geralt had already slipped the barkeep four gold coins for the trouble of dealing with his drunken crew; he might as well take advantage of the purchased freedom. He could tease his darling wife a little.

“You could kiss me, for one.”

The siren didn’t need any more urging than that. Half a second after the words left Geralt’s mouth, Jaskier’s lips were plastered against his. His darling nymph’s agile tongue was pushing its way into his mouth, toying with him, taking up all his attention and focus for a moment. In that moment, Jaskier fisted his hair tightly into Geralt’s hair and _tugged. “_ Oh, Captain!”

The pirate growled and shoved his hands beneath his wife’s firm thighs, lifting him off the bar. Jaskier wrapped his legs tightly around the Captain’s waist and allowed himself to be carried from the building.

It was going to be a _good_ night.


	34. My Wife!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Are you still taking dialogue prompts? Cause i have one i think you might like. It’s “(And) That’s my wife!” like the John Mulaney bit.

Geralt is drunk. He sways on his feet and slams his tankard against the galley counter. His free hand points to Jaskier, who’s been reclining in the corner. “That’s my wife!”

“We know,” Lambert groans. “You’ve said that like fifteen times.”

“That’s my _wife!_ That’s _my_ wife!”

Geralt grins as Jaskier stands and wanders closer. He hooks his arm around the half-siren’s waist and draws him close to nuzzle against his neck. “You’re my wife!”

“That I am,” Jaskier giggles. “Your stubble is going to scratch my neck if you keep that up, drunkard husband.”

“I’m not a drunkard,” Geralt argues. 

“Of course not,” the half-siren smiles. “Shall we get you into bed, darling?”

“Aye.”

“Goodnight lads,” Jaskier waves to the crew. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck!” the men laughed and waved back. “G’night Captain.”

Geralt was humming quietly and turned to sing, “I love my wife!”

 _Oh no,_ Jaskier giggled again. _He’s never going to live that one down._


	35. The Tail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jaskier shows Geralt his tail

Jaskier dove beneath the water, letting the transformation take hold of his body. He’s only fully transformed twice before; both times he was doing so to keep Ciri from getting lost in the water beneath the ship. This time was different.

It was just him and Geralt, alone in the little cove. When he surfaced again, his legs now fused into one, long, shimmering tail. Geralt’s golden eyes were wide and Jaskier flinched away, “Do you hate it?”

“No,” his husband breathed. “It’s…come closer.”

Jaskier propelled himself up against the rocky outcropping where the Captain was seated and hauled himself halfway out of the water. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not colorful like Ciri’s but-”

“It’s beautiful,” Geralt interrupted. One of his hands reached out and cupped the side of Jaskier’s damp face. “Like the rest of you.”

Jaskier blushed, his shark-grey tail slicing through the water beneath him where it was still submerged. It was pearlier than his sisters’ tails; almost shimmering in the bright light of the summer sun. Geralt beamed and pressed a reverent kiss to the back of Jaskier’s hand. “I love you.”


	36. Tiny Ciri Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bouncey, my sweet friend, I must know, is Geralt the dad who squishes Ciri's face and belly laughs when she giggles? Or is he the dad that wraps her up in a body sling and goes about his business with a cooing baby strapped to his chest like everything is normal? I nEeD tO kNoW

Geralt fastens the shawl around his chest and shoulders so tightly that the curious eight-month-old merbaby swaddled within can’t wiggle too much or try and escape. He keeps her like that for the entirety of his watch, cooing at her between passes of the spyglass. The horizon is unusually empty for this time of year but Geralt doesn’t mind so much today. 

He’s enjoying the time with his baby girl. His and his _wife’s_ beautiful _daughter._

 _“_ Good morning, Captain,” said wife beams, appearing at his side like magic. “How is our little lady doing today?”

“I got her to eat a whole bowl of porridge without throwing any at Starkey,” the Captain brags. 

“Hmm. And did she clap and gurgle as always?”

“She’s definitely her father’s daughter.”

“And what does that make me?” Jaskier huffs playfully, reaching into the bundle to play with one of Ciri’s tiny hands. She grasps onto his finger and tries to pull it into her mouth. A mouth which has, as of late, begun to feel slightly pointier. 

“Her mother, of course,” Geralt winks. Jaskier rolls his eyes and continues to focus on their daughter. 

“We should swim together soon, the three of us.”

“Will you…show me?”

“Show you what?”

“Your tail?”

Jaskier considers for a moment. He gazes down into their adopted daughter’s clear, green eyes and nods. “Yes. I think I’d like that.”


	37. Stormy Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jaskier is afraid of storms

_“_ You’ll come back before the storm hits?” Jaskier asks, eyes wide and shining in the light of the setting sun. Geralt nods solemnly. His anxious little nymph worries his lip between his sharp teeth for a moment and then asks, “Do you promise?”

Geralt offers up his pinky. “I swear on my life.”

“Hmm,” the half-siren sighs, hooking the offered digit with his own. “Alright.”

—

“I didn’t know you were scared of storms,” Geralt murmurs into his sweet siren’s ear. Jaskier’s eyes are scrunched closed and he’s curled as tightly as possible against the pirate Captain. “My poor little wife.”

A flash of lightning brightens the cabin momentarily and only seconds later a thunderous _boom_ cracks through the air. The ship sways slightly from the force of the storm but since they’re anchored safely at a sturdy dock, Geralt isn’t worried about the state of the _Kaer Morhen._ Jaskier, however, is terrified that the ship will splinter to pieces beneath them at any moment.

He jerks at the noise, releasing a loud whine, and Geralt wonders for a moment if it’s an instinct from his siren blood. Perhaps storms are not meant to be weathered above the surface of the water like this. 

The White Wolf tucks his wife’s head beneath his chin and presses several soothing kisses there. His hands rub up and down the smaller man’s spine, pressing them together. “Shh, my love. It will be over soon. I’ll be here to protect you until it’s gone.”

“I know, it’s just loud.”

“Do you want me to sing?”

Jaskier’s breath hitches and Geralt realizes with a start that his darling wife is crying softly from fright alone. He wraps himself around the younger, smaller man like a shield and begins to hum. Jaskier presses his ear against his husband’s heart and listens to the steady beat and the rumbling tune. 

“I love you,” he whispers. 

Geralt pauses his humming long enough to press another soft, lingering kiss to Jaskier’s hair. Then he picks back up again, valiantly trying to block out the noise of the storm. Scared as he is, the siren smiles and cuddles closer to his Wolf.


	38. "You Bitch" dialogue prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue Prompt: "you bitch"

_“_ You absolute bitch,” the strange captain laughs, slapping Jaskier across the face. The impact is loud and snaps the young half-siren’s head to the side. His hair flies into his shocked, wide-open eyes, blinding him. “You thought you could just escape?”

“Yes.”

Another slap, this time in the opposite direction. Jaskier’s ears are ringing and he’s feeling nauseated and dizzy.

“Nobody escapes the _Flogging Molly_ ,” the dirty, balding man snarls. “Especially not precious cargo like yourself.”

“Damaged cargo, now,” the captive chuckles dryly. “Do you think anyone will pay a good price for bruised property?”

“Yer face’ll be pretty again by the time we make landfall,” the pirate spits. He glances up to the crewmen holding Jaskier’s arms behind his back. “Toss ‘im in the brig.”

Jaskier doesn’t see another living person again for at least two days.

—

“Little nymph!” Geralt shouts, slamming the cell door of the brig open and rushing to gather Jaskier into his arms. He worriedly brushes the hair back from the younger man’s eyes, which gaze up at him with cloudy confusion. “Little nymph?”

“Who’re you?”

“Jaskier!?” Lambert calls, slamming his way down the stairs behind his Captain. “Did you find him, sir?”

“Aye,” the White Wolf snarls. He stands, clutching Jaskier tightly to his chest, bridal-style. “What they’ve left of him.”

“Let’s kill the dirty bastards.”

“We’re going to kill the bastards and burn their ship,” the Captain decides. Lambert nods. 

—

The crew takes care of disengaging from the _Flogging Molly,_ which is burning slowly into the waterline behind them. Geralt takes Jaskier to their shared cabin and asks Starkey to kindly bring them some hot water from the galley. He takes one look at Jaskier’s bruised, bloody, emaciated form and rushes to comply. 

Geralt sits on the edge of their shared bed and cradles the half-siren on his lap. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he starts to sing quietly, rocking his darling as he waits for Starkey to return. 

_“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine;  
You make me happy when skies are gray.  
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you,  
Please don’t take my sunshine away.”_

Starkey waits until the Captain has finished before entering with the warm bowl of water, and he leaves quickly to give them some time alone. The crew can handle the rest. Geralt hadn’t slept between losing Jaskier in the small port village and finding him again. 

—

Jaskier feels the cool press of a tin mug against his lips as cool water is tipped down his throat. Someone is humming in a deep, rumbling baritone and it soothes him all the way down to his bones. Some primal part of him is achingly proud and possessive of the voice; his siren half, probably. 

A warm, damp cloth swipes across his left collarbone and Jaskier jerks in surprise. The humming stops and he hears his husband ask, “Are you awake, sweet siren?”

“Barely,” he manages to croak. Geralt runs a hand through his hair and Jaskier closes his eyes, soaking in the contact. “You saved me.”

“Of course.”

“Come lay down. I want to be held.”

“You need to eat something, my love. You’re weak.”

“And I am wanting,” the younger man replies. His voice feels foreign; he hasn’t spoken in forty-eight hours. He reaches out and his arms fall back to his sides instantly. He’s too weak to hold them up.

Geralt’s eyebrows scrunch as he deliberates. Finally, he sighs. “Five minutes.”


End file.
